


His Stonewrought Lover

by Malkuthe



Series: Fae AU [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Animancy, M/M, Magic-Users, Mating Bond, Pygmalion and Galatea, Suspended Animation, petrification, wolf shifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkuthe/pseuds/Malkuthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living deep amongst the mountains at the edge of the world is a young and lonely artisan of the Wolf-clan of Sköll. With seemingly no mate nor lover among his immortal clan-mates, he instead sets out to craft one for himself. He dreams of a lover and mate wrought of living marble, with hair black as the night sky and eyes as rich and dark as the earth. He dreams of a lover and mate devoted to him as wholly as he is devoted in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Oblivion

The sun had set. The night sky was speckled with the many twinkling lights of the stars. No longer was the night so dark and terrifying to the Lone Wolf that roamed the cliffs of his mountain home. No longer was the night filled with the horrors that he had imagined—the gnashing, bloody teeth; the screaming; the whispers of the damned.

Now, the night was quiet, a time for rumination and solace in an otherwise chaotic world. The Lone Wolf’s mind was still awhirl, spinning with the gravity of the situation that he had found himself in—nay, that he had been born in.

It had been three weeks since the Lone Wolf had left the darkened and hallowed halls of the man that he had come to know as his father. He had left to much fanfare and adulation, with goodbyes from the women he now knew as his sister and half-sister.

In the months that had led up to that fateful day of departure, the Lone Wolf had learned the truth about himself. He now knew what he had once been. He knew what he now was. More than anything, he now knew what sort of price had been paid to give him his blood, his flesh, and in fact, his very _life_.

When the Lone Wolf had first been told about his true nature, he had rebelled against the idea, repulsed by the concept of not having entered the world from the womb. Now, however, he found a strange sort of peace in that fact.

Perhaps the Lone Wolf had not been conceived and grown in the womb of a woman, but certainly, he had been conceived and birthed from a womb all the same. A womb, of the mind that had sculpted his every beautiful feature, had borne him, and skilled hands had fixed him in living stone.

As much as it now surprised the Lone Wolf to admit, he had no qualms about what he had set out to do.

At first, the Lone Wolf had been tasked to find another—the wolf that had created him, the wolf that was destined to be his mate and lover. He had to admit that anxiety gnawed at his insides, uncertainty about whether the other wolf would be cruel or kind. His father would not tell him anything, answering each time he asked with a bemused grin and a gentle reminder that the excitement lay in the knowing.

All that the Lone Wolf had been told was that his creator had eyes of blue like the sky above, and coat of what seemed to be soft, fine-spun gold. He had been tasked to find his creator to learn and to understand the motivations behind his creation, behind his very existence.

For all the cold anxiety knotted in the pit of his stomach, the Lone Wolf _yearned_ to meet his creator. It had always felt as though there was a part of him missing, and now was his chance to find out why. He smiled to himself and he howled to the moon, hoping to scare it across the sky.

The Lone Wolf would find the golden one that had created him, and the wolf would repay the cost that he owed his very existence to.

\----------

_The Golden Wolf rose from where he knelt. He wiped the spittle from the corner of his lips and the side of his cheek. He grabbed a cloth from over his shoulder and used it to wipe down the sweat that had formed into a glistening sheen over his musculature._

_The Golden Wolf also used the cloth to wipe down the rather impressive manhood of his most prized possession—a statue sculpted from the highest quality marble over the last decade, crafted with all the love that he could muster in his body, right down to the very tips of his fingers._

_Perhaps the Golden Wolf had made the statue’s member a tad bit too large for his own virginal entrance. The thought of taking it in his rear had crossed his mind far too many times for him to count. As much as he wanted to change the veritable weapon and make it more manageable, it was already exquisite in its perfection of form._

_The Golden Wolf could not find within himself any good reason to change anything, much less risk maiming the glorious unliving creature that he had before him. Nevertheless, if he could not properly take it within himself from that end, he was satisfied enough with engulfing it in his mouth._

_The Golden Wolf cast his gaze upon the hourglass that sat in one corner of the room, undisturbed. The last few grains of its sunlight fell through into the bottom lobe. It was just about time for him to begin the ritual._

_The Golden Wolf raised his eyes to meet the vacant, white eyes of the marble sculpture that loomed over him. When he stood upon the pedestal, the sculpture was not much taller than he, but the pedestal was grand—it had to be, for nothing else would be fitting for the culmination of ten years of his hard work._

_Those stone eyes that the statue bore were already filled with such beauty that they made the Golden Wolf’s heart ache with longing for those arms he so lovingly shaped to wrap around him. Truth be told, the Golden Wolf did not know what he would do once those eyes were filled with the life that he yearned for them to be._

_The Golden Wolf took a few steps back, away from the sculpture. He blinked in surprise as the air before him began to shimmer and stir with magic. A man stepped through the coruscating strands of light that danced in front of him. The man was the striking image of the Golden Wolf, only more mature, more muscled, and slightly better dressed in a chiton, as opposed to the Golden Wolf’s full nudity._

_“Father,” said the Golden Wolf, nodding his head in respectful acknowledgment. Though his father blocked his view, the Golden Wolf sniffed the air, looking for the scent of the incense that he had burning around the feet of the statue. It was to make sure that his father had not tampered with the fruit of his crafts._

_Truth be told, the Golden Wolf was beginning to think that perhaps the veritable altar that he had created at the feet of his sculpture was treading into the territory of the eerie. It was only just considering the Golden Wolf’s devotion to his creation, but now that he had a moment of clarity to think about it, he could see why it would be somewhat unsettling._

_“William,” said the man that had stepped out of the light with an amused smile playing on his lips. The Golden Wolf frowned at the name used to address him. “Alright, as you wish, little one,” said the Golden Wolf’s father. “Will.”_

_“You are aware that the Working you wish to do will not give your creation the life that you wish it would have, yes?” The man that had stepped out of the light was Apollo, one of the ‘elders’ of the wolf-clan, though decidedly the most childish of them. “Nor would it be the life that it deserves.”_

_Will took a step to the side to look behind his father. He set his gaze upon the pale stone of the statue there, the creature of unmoving marble that he had so lovingly crafted with all the skill that dwelt in his fingers._

_“Perhaps it shall not be the life he deserves to have, father,” said Will, turning to the undoubtedly beauteous face of his sire; “but he has captured my heart and my soul and any semblance of life is better than none at all.”_

_Apollo smiled gently at his son and clapped a hand on the younger wolf’s shoulder. “_ A leanbh _,” he said; “For you to attain what your heart_ truly _desires, you need only dabble in magics considered darker than you might yet know.”_

_Apollo fetched a necklace from within his chiton. It was a bauble that Will had seen on many occasions prior, one that he had never assumed to be more than just an accessory that his father fancied. The necklace was made from fine golden chain from which hung pearls wrapped in ornate silver wire._

_Apollo placed the necklace on his open palm and breathed upon it. The miniature trefoil leaves wrought from the silver wire began to rustle in the wind that Apollo brought upon them. The pearls were shaken loose from the wire cages and watched with eyes—watery eyes—as the pearls began to grow and glow with an ethereal light._

_“Animancy,” said Apollo. He moved his fingers so that the orbs of glowing light would dance among his fingers. They whisked over and under his hand, as though moving to some inaudible music. “Outlawed by the Council of Twilight not because of its dangers, but because of its eldritch mysteries.”_

_Apollo walked around Will, the orbs of light trailing around him. He guided them into a dancing circle around Will’s temple. “A magic practised in secret by nearly all the Council’s members in order to better know what knowledge its arcane depths conceal.”_

_“The manipulation of souls?” said Will under his breath. The thought of animancy had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, but he had rejected it solely on the face of its outlawed nature. Yet here was his father, telling him it was not so. “Pray, tell, father, whose soul would you have me steal to give life to him?” he hissed._

_Apollo shook his head. “No one’s.” He summoned the orbs of light back to him, willing them to whirl around his head like a halo of golden light. “These orbs of light—they are the souls of your brothers and sisters whom I failed.”_

_“These are the souls of the ones that I could not save on their birthing beds.” Apollo shook his head, a single tear leaving a moist track down the side of his cheek. “They came into the world stillborn or they died soon after their mothers or fathers did.”_

_Apollo swept the orbs of light back into his hands where they promptly became pearls on the necklace once more. “They have been with me for a very long time, for I wish them to know me as their father, and not another when the void returns them to the Cycle.”_

_“Your unborn brothers and sisters have kept me company for all these years, and I, them. They have all been waiting for a way to return to the world of the living. After millennia of fruitless searching, here you stand before me, greatest of my sons, with a solution so simple that you make me feel daft for not having thought of it sooner.”_

_Apollo stepped up to the statue and ran his fingers along the sculpted musculature of the unliving creature. “Do you know why they call this stone living marble?” he said, with a smile._

_Will shook his head. No, he did not know. He always thought it was just a figure of speech, a fragment of a long-gone civilization that had preceded them. “They call this stone living marble because it can hold magic better than anything else in the world. It is the stone best suited for the crafting of golems and automata for the magic sealed in the marble rarely ever fades.”_

_Apollo turned to Will and said to him, “You have no need to steal a soul when I have so many hanging about my neck just waiting for another chance at life.”_

_Will’s eyes darkened. He faced his father with burning eyes. His father was wise and knowledgeable, he had to admit, but there were also times when Apollo did not think his plans through. “You would have me love one whose soul is not only that of an infant’s, but also one who is of my own blood? My own brother?”_

_Apollo shrugged. There was no stigma against incest in the wolf-clans, though there certainly was one of taking mates from wolves yet to reach their maturity. He considered the offer he’d made to his son and decided that Will was correct in being leery of the proposition._

_Needless to say, Apollo had already figured out the best way to bring his children back to life, just by touching the marble sculpture that Will had created. “You are right,” said Apollo, with a sympathetic smile. “I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment.”_

_“This magnificent beast deserves more than just the soul of an infant. It certainly deserves infancy less so than being a construct with no true mind of its own.” Will bristled at the way that his father insisted on calling the clearly-male statue ‘it’._

_“However,” said Apollo, casting his own gaze upon the hourglass in the corner of the room. “I think it is just about time for you to begin the Working. If you would like, I could hold the Outer Circle for you so that you shall not need to take the hours of preparation the spell would otherwise require.”_

_Will was not convinced by his father’s change of heart. He fetched a sharp, wrought-iron tool from the pedestal upon which the statue stood. He grabbed his father’s arm and walked Apollo over to the nearest blazing brazier._

_“Oath to me that you will do no Animancy during this ritual,” said Will. He stabbed his palm with the tool, not even flinching at the pain. Ten decades of accidentally smashing his fingers with a hammer while sculpting had rendered him somewhat insensate. His blood dripped into the blazing coals and sizzled. He offered the tool to Apollo._

_Apollo waved away Will’s hand and withdrew for himself a dagger of certainly-consecrated gold from his chiton. He slashed his own palm and spilt his blood upon the brazier, which crackled with magical energy as the oath took hold. “I swear it upon the fire, upon my honour and upon my life,” said Apollo in the ancient words of blood-oathing._

_“Good,” said Will tersely. He snatched back the chisel he’d offered to his father, which had been summarily dismissed. It was almost insulting for his father to turn away one of the tools of his trade. In fact, traditionally speaking, it was a rather terrible thing to do. Will could not blame his father, however. For all the wisdom that Apollo sometimes displayed, most of the time, dealing with him was like dealing with a child._

_Will tossed the chisel in his fingers aside, glancing only to check that it was picked up by a wisp of light and carried into one of the recesses meant for tools set into the walls._

_Will cast his arms out to either side of himself as he walked toward the statue. The pedestal upon which the sculpture was stood was cleared of anything other than the statue itself in moments. Wisps of light picked up bowls of incense and vases of flowers and stashed them in corners of the room where they would not get in the way of the ritual that was about to occur._

_Tools of the trade followed suit, returning to their niches in the walls. He snapped his fingers and caught the vial of Dust that flew into his hand. He was about to offer it to Apollo only to find that his father was already well underway with laying down the Outer Circle._

_Will shook his head and sprinkled his Dust to construct the Inner Circle. He chanted in the arcane tongue as he did. With his free hand, he drew magic from the myriad of crystals strewn about the room which had, for the last ten years, been soaking up magic from the stark daylight that filled the room during the day._

_Will infused the Dust that lay at his feet with magic and could not help but smile to himself with satisfaction as the Inner Circle began to take shape._

_Will raised his eyes and looked upon the statue that stood at the heart of the two circles. “Soon, my stonewrought friend,” he said to it, with a loving smile, “soon I shall breathe life into your limbs and we can be together as I have only ever dared dream.”_

_For the next half hour, Will and Apollo walked around the statue in opposite directions. Their hands grabbed fistfuls of air from outside the Circles and tossed them in towards the centre. In truth, it was magic that they were drawing from the air, but for anyone uneducated in the art of Workings, it would have seemed rather farcical._

_Together, father and son chanted the ancient words of the spell meant to impart rudimentary but somewhat advanced consciousness to Golems. William spoke the words while Apollo spoke them backward, ensuring that the magic would be confined within the Outer Circle._

_Just as Will was about to cross the inner circle to impart the kiss of life on the statue, the bells of the citadel began to ring. They rang clamorous and clangorous, sending a shiver of impending doom throughout the entire citadel._

_Alarm and fear surged through Will’s body, and in a moment of vulnerability, he looked askance upon his father. Apollo had frozen in his pacing and was listening closely to the keening of the bells from up high. “We’re not under attack,” whispered Apollo, colour draining from his face as he drew up a portal of coruscating strands of light, stepped through, and disappeared._

_Without Apollo to hold the Outer Circle, the spell unravelled and rebounded. It struck Will as it rushed back in toward the statue. He staggered forward, unable to resist the flow of arcane energy as the shockwave of the spell undoing itself propagated._

_Will let out a howl of pain, watching with horror as the arcane magics soaked through the living marble and knocked a chip so tiny it was almost indistinguishable from the sculpture’s chest. Will would have mourned, but he was not given the time nor the chance to mourn the maiming of his most beloved creation._

_Apollo returned through the light, carrying in his arms a bloodied young wolf, only a few decades older than Will—his half-brother Michael. “Michael,” gasped Will, staggering in the direction of his father and his half-brother._

_“No,” Will whispered in horror, stopping in his tracks when he saw what the problem truly was. The blood was the least of their concerns. Michael’s hands and feet were beginning  to take on the semblance of the night sky, dark and speckled with twinkling stars that seemed far more benevolent than Will knew they were._

_“It seems I shall be saying good night to you far sooner than expected, little brother,” croaked Michael with a small laugh and a pained smile in Will’s direction. “Midnight’s Poison has taken me, and I am sad to say, I shan’t be saying good morning to anything any time soon. My soul is destined for oblivion, not the cold embrace of the void and its eternal Cycle.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read [Shrine to the Fickle Mermaid](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3809401/chapters/8488684) you probably should! This fic is set in the same universe, after all. :3.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter thus far. :3. There's going to be a lot more of this, so there's going to be a lot of writing to read over the next couple of weeks! If you're wondering, this is why there is not an update to The Years of My Longing today—because I was working on this all week.
> 
> Leave a kudos if you like the intro so far, and leave me a comment if you want to make my day! I would love to read your comments. <3.


	2. From Death Comes Life

_Will turned his gaze upon Apollo in despair. There was no bottom to the well of sorrow that seeing his half-brother in such a sorry state had opened up within Will. As talented as he was in both the clerical and arcane arts, Will knew that there was nothing in the mortal realm that could overcome Midnight’s Poison._

_Midnight’s Poison was an eldritch abomination, concocted from flowers vomited from the very depths of the Broken Worlds. It was not a poison that attacked the body—nor did it attack the mind, for that matter. Midnight’s Poison corroded the immortal soul and, ultimately, destroyed it. It denied the soul entrance into the Void and its eternal Cycle of birth and rebirth._

_Apollo looked first at his bloodied and wounded son hung around his shoulders, then he looked at Will. His face did not show it, but the distress that Will was feeling could not hold a candle against the magnitude of that which dwelt within Apollo._

_Apollo loved his children very much, and seeing but one of them so very near to eternal death was heart-rending. He glanced at the statue that stood behind Will, an epiphany striking him with such strength that he felt as though he had run headlong into the sculpture._

_“There is a way,” whispered Apollo, looking again at Will, then at Michael. His voice turned grim but determined. He was going to save his son from being cast into oblivion somehow. “There is a way that we can save at least some part of you, Michael,” he said; “But I can promise the both of you that none of this shall be pleasant for either of you.”_

_Will opened his mouth to say something, but Michael weakly waved him quiet. Michael looked at his father and flashed a pained grin, ever seemingly cheerful even at death’s door. “Whatever it is that you can do is enough for me, father,” he said._

_Apollo felt the tears burning in the corners of his eyes. “I do not have much of anything to lose now,” said Michael, “so a little more suffering to save some part of me is alright as far as I am concerned.”_

_Apollo frowned at his son. “Michael,” Apollo said, looking down at his own feet, somewhat unsure of what more to say. “It is not so easy as you might think. There will only be very little that we can save should we continue down this path.”_

_Michael looked at Will, who was evidently biting back sobs, then turned his eyes to Apollo. He couldn’t bear to look at the despair that dwelt in Will’s blue eyes. “Does it matter, father?” he said; “I know what it means to have my soul shattered. No small fragment of my memories nor the personality that made me myself would remain. I would be a blank slate. But is that not better than I not existing_ at all _?”_

_Will’s jaw dropped. He could not believe that Michael would even think that Apollo would condone such a thing happening. He could not imagine what it would be like for everything that was_ Michael _to be erased in an instant. And yet, when he looked at Apollo, he saw no denial. The shattering of Michael’s soul was what Apollo had been about to propose._

_“Sure,” said Michael, coughing up crimson droplets of blood that splattered against the marble floor. “I will, for all purposes, die if you shatter my soul. However, I shall die if you do not. Even if whatever I am is wiped away from what would remain of my soul, at least the memory of me will live on, no?_

_“How do you know that shattering your soul is the solution that was on my mind?” breathed Apollo. The words had been stolen from him by Michael. He could not think of anything more to express, anything more to say, other than his disbelief._

_Michael laughed, though it was evident that the laughter hurt him. He shook his head, flinging droplets of blood every which way as he coughed. “Father,” said Michael, almost reprimanding in the way he spoke; “Animancy is likely your worst-kept secret.”_

_Apollo’s eyes widened. He laughed nervously as warmth crept up into his cheeks. He flicked his wrist and summoned a chair where he set Michael down. He lowered himself to his knees and grabbed Michael’s face between his palms._

_Will was frozen, rooted where he stood by shock at the sheer madness of what Apollo was proposing. His eyes were filled with tears. However, as much as he despised agreeing with his father on this matter, it was indeed true that saving_ some _part of Michael was better by far than_ not _saving any part of him at all._

_Apollo pulled Michael closer to him. They looked into each other’s eyes in a moment of profound connection. Apollo tilted his head and placed a kiss, one passionate, tender, and loving on Michael’s lips. Much to his own credit, he was able to make Michael moan into the gesture of affection despite the pain that wracked his entire body._

_When Apollo and Michael pulled apart, Will was drawn to the strand of saliva, turned crimson by blood, clinging to both of their lower lips. Apollo wiped his lips and stroked the side of Michael’s face with a single finger. “Are you ready,_ a leanbh _?”_

_Michael nodded his head and took a deep breath. Will took a step back as Apollo, with tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks, unleashed the full extent of his arcane talents as he bent time itself around Michael. The room was bathed in the intense radiance that began to emanate from Apollo as he pressed his will against the flow of time itself._

_Apollo could not stop time. Even_ he _did not have such terrible power. He could certainly make it slow enough in a specific area that it was effectively so. Streamers of golden light much more vibrant than Will’s own shot out of Apollo’s outstretched hands and wrapped themselves around Michael’s body._

_The tendrils of coruscating golden light writhed and tightened around Michael, slowly forming a cocoon that would preserve him until the spell, to salvage what pieces of his soul that could be, was ready. As the tendrils of light travelled up the length of his body, Michael looked at his half-brother and his father in turn. He smiled at them just as the cocoon wrapped around his head and he was sealed in stasis for the time being._

_The room darkened as the light that was emanating from Apollo winked out of existence. He wiped the tears from his eyes and sank to his knees from sheer exhaustion. The Working that he had just performed was far beyond anything that he had even_ attempted _in the last few decades._

_Apollo turned his gaze to Will and blinked away the tears that threatened to return. “Bed,” he croaked, voice hoarse. Will knew that there was no point to arguing any further. If they were going to continue down this path, it was for Michael’s best interests that they work as fast as they could._

_Will snapped his fingers and called for a cot to approach. The magical wisps that made sure his every bidding was met brought out a makeshift bed. With weak, trembling knees, Apollo raised the cocoon that contained Michael from the chair and set him down on the bed._

_“This is madness,” whispered Will as the cocoon of light turned translucent under Apollo’s touch and allowed him to see Michael’s face in its deceptively peaceful repose. “I did not even get to say goodbye,” he said, the tears only now beginning to cloud his vision._

_“This is indeed madness,” said Apollo, having walked through the light to emerge across the room. He examined the scrolls that Will had stacked in niches set into the walls. “But this is necessary to save him. You know as well as I that I am not as the other elders. I love my children more than they, and so long as I draw breath, I shall not allow them to be destroyed like this.”_

_Will nodded in agreement. If there was any redeeming quality about his father, it was Apollo’s dedication to his children. He was more open than the others on the Council of Twilight. It was for this reason that Will had had a good relationship with his father thus far over the many years of his life, after all. As far as he was concerned, Will would give up the world to continue having such a great relationship with his father._

_“It is time to get to work,” said Apollo, withdrawing a scroll about artifice from its niche on the wall. “We need more Arcane Dust.”_

\----------

For the last three weeks, the Lone Wolf had been wandering the mountains. He was not walking around without aim. He had an objective, after all. The only trouble was that the objective he was looking for was rather well-hidden, even for one with such acute senses as he.

For those same three weeks, the Lone Wolf had lived off of the land and the many, many fruits of its hidden bounty. At first he had been surprised how easy the game was in the mountains since he’d known from the beginning that the wolf-clans lived among the lofty peaks, high above the treeline below.

The Lone Wolf supposed that it was all a matter of learning where the most nutritious prey frequented. He looked over his shoulder at the carcass of the deer-like creature he’d taken down not too long ago, savouring the coppery taste of its blood on his lip. Oh how he wished he had his journal of flora and fauna with him, nothing would have made his meal more wonderful than if he had had some way to record the discoveries he’d made while dissecting the creature with his teeth.

The Lone Wolf decided that he would have to learn the dens of these animals by heart, so that he would get a chance to observe them when he finally fulfilled his mission. He had never had such a delicious meal whilst Wild, though certainly, even the best buck could not compare to the meals cooked in his adoptive father’s home.

The Lone Wolf raised his eyes to the night sky, spangled with its glittering, twinkling stars. The moon was not yet out, but he had a feeling within himself that it would soon rise.

The Lone Wolf dropped to all fours and summoned his Wolfin form, groaning as his muscles rippled, his bones cracked, his face elongated into a muzzle, and the Change overtook him.

The Lone Wolf crawled out of the clothes that had fallen all around him as he transformed. The shirt and the pants were considerably larger than the limbs he had now. He pawed at his snout and sprang off in a run toward a nearby rocky outcrop that seemed to have a good view of the valley far below.

Giddy exhilaration filled the Lone Wolf’s chest when he saw the first silvery sliver of the moon peeking over the horizon, glimmering over the river that wound into the forest of the valley beneath him.

The Lone Wolf howled as he saw the first of the moon’s light. There was a part of him that hoped to scare the moon away from the night sky, one that he supposed was there because of his heritage. He was of the wolf-clan of Hati, after all. Chasing the moon was what his people did.

All around the Lone Wolf, he heard his howling picked up by his honorary brothers and sisters. They had all emerged from their homes along the mountaintops to weave the song of their peoples—their song of war against the pale, malevolent moon.

The Lone Wolf puffed out his chest as he stood upon the rock, proud that he could be the night’s Herald. It was a position of great honour, one that he had tried to wrest for himself many times over the last three weeks. Now, he had the privilege of being the leader of the Wolfsong.

The Lone Wolf’s howl was lilting and musical, deceptively innocent though there was certainly a venomous undertone to it. His brothers and sisters yowled along with him, howling their assent and approval of his Heralding of the moonrise.

When the weaving of the Wolfsong was done, and all that remained of the howling that had dominated the night sky were the faded echoes still reverberating through the tall mountains that bordered the valley below on either side, the Lone Wolf clambered down from his perch and returned to his human form. The cold wind that chose that moment to blow did not even faze him in the slightest.

The Lone Wolf picked up his breeches and pulled them on. He took his tunic and did the same. Finally, he bent down to retrieve the deerskin cloak he had made himself and smiled, proud of what he had accomplished that night.

The Lone Wolf was on a trail that he had only seen the previous night while he was trying to find a good flat place to sleep. He was not sure where it led, but he certainly hoped it would take him to where he wanted to go. He sauntered down the trail, sniffing the air as he went. He was looking for a scent of some description, and while he suspected that the faintest hint of pineapple he could pick up was what he needed, he could not be sure.

Nevertheless, the Lone Wolf’s hopes were up, and he was more than happy to explore the mountains. He walked along the trail, not as weary as he should have been after a day’s worth of walking. The kill he’d made earlier certainly helped give him much-needed energy.

As he crested a rise in the trail that he had not noticed before, the Lone Wolf’s breath caught in his throat. Down below, set into the side of the mountain, was the largest gate that he had ever seen in his life.

There was a staircase hewn into the very stone of the mountain itself that led all the way down into a flat courtyard that was before the gate. The courtyard itself was empty save for two braziers that glowed with happily dancing flames that were certainly enchanted, considering their golden colour.

The Lone Wolf made his way down to the gates. It took a while for him to descend the stairs. Even being one of the wolf-fae peoples, his natural agility could only take him so far. He did not want his last memory to be one of regret at being stupid enough to die by being careless and falling off of a staircase carved into the side of the mountain.

When finally the Lone Wolf stood before the great gate to the Citadel of Dawn, he found himself petrified by its magnificence. His jaw dropped in awe and wonder at the beauty of the gate’s architecture. It was just a gate! He could not imagine the sheer opulence of the Citadel hidden behind it.

The Citadel of Dusk, from where the Lone Wolf had come, was, according to his father, just as grand as the Citadel of Dawn, but in a more simple and elegant way. The Lone Wolf was beginning to gather that the Citadel of Dawn was different, grandiose and opulent in comparison.

All along the height of the great marble construct paraded scenes of wolves chasing the sun across the sky as the light of day washed over the land. The Lone Wolf saw creatures set in marble waking from their dens, flowers blooming as daylight rained upon them. The carvings were so lifelike that for a moment, he legitimately thought they were moving. They weren’t.

The Lone Wolf drew his cloak about him and whined as he stood there, feeling rather small in comparison to the towering gate. If the Citadel of Dawn was anything like the Citadel of Dusk, its front gates would only open with the rising of the sun. Other entrances were sure to be open, but the Lone Wolf had no idea where those were.

The Lone Wolf whined into his arm again and curled up. At least he’d arrived at his destination, even if he was as yet unable to enter. He would simply have to sleep off the rest of the night and wait for the Citadel to open come the rising of the sun in the morning.

\----------

_Will looped invisible threads of air around the pedestal of the sculpture in the middle of the room. He made sure that there were also buildings to keep the sculpture in place so that it would not fall over as he moved it. With considerable effort—since the statue was made of solid rock, after all—he shifted the statue aside._

_Will did the same for the cot that supported the cocoon that enveloped Michael. He lifted the makeshift bed over the Outer Circle and over the Inner Circle, settling it down as gently as he could beside the statue that lay at the heart of the Circles._

_Will looked out onto the balcony of his workshop. Apollo was there, staring over the banisters into the valley below. Will could see the teardrops spilling from his father’s face. They glittered in the moonlight as they fell, inexorably, to the thirsting trees that swayed in the room far below._

_Ever since Will and Apollo had started preparing for the considerable feat of Animancy that they were about to attempt, Apollo had looked like he was on the brink of a breakdown. If Will was being entirely honest, he wanted to cry, himself. If it wasn’t for the fact that_ he _had to perform the Animancy because of the oath he had made Apollo take, he would have wept openly._

_Nevertheless, Michael needed Will right now. Will had to be strong. Neither he, nor Michael, nor Apollo could afford to wait the extra day that it would require before Will could release Apollo from the oath that Will had made him take._

_Before he went to fetch his father, Will crossed the boundaries of the two Circles and pressed a hand against the cocoon of golden light that enveloped his half-brother. He looked within and saw that despite the slowing of time to a crawl within the cocoon, Midnight’s Poison had already crept up Michael’s arm, almost consuming Michael to his elbow._

_Will shook his head in disbelief. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his mouth to muffle the cry of alarm that threatened to escape him._

_Will ran for the doors to the balcony. He pulled them open and stuck his head outside. “Father,” he said, worry clear on his voice. “Michael’s condition is only getting worse. We are ready and we might need to begin as soon as we can. I am not even sure there will be enough left of him to save.”_

_Apollo took a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes and turned to face Will. “For so long as a part of his soul continues to beat golden, there will be a part of him that we can save,” said Apollo. His tone told Will that the words were meant more to reassure himself than Will._

_“I want to say goodbye,” said Will, as Apollo walked past him. Apollo paused mid-stride. “I am aware that it could very well jeopardize our chances, but I would at least want to tell my own brother that I love him before he dies, whether by Midnight’s Poison or by this Working of Animancy.”_

_Much to Will’s surprise, Apollo nodded. “You are right,” said the older wolf; “Of course you are right. You have always had a good heart for these kinds of things.” Apollo leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to Will’s right temple. Apollo gestured inward to where Michael lay. “Shall we? Let us bid farewell to your brother.”_

_Apollo flicked his wrist as he and Will made their way into the Inner Circle. The cocoon that enveloped Michael began to unravel. The solid shell turned into individual coruscating bands of golden light that each dissolved into motes of light that drifted away much like embers from a fire._

_When finally, Apollo and Will stood by Michael’s bedside, Michael was free of his stasis. His eyes shot open and he took a deep, gasping breath. Michael looked at Will and Apollo and whispered, under his breath, “Is it time?”_

_Apollo looked first at Will, then at Michael, and nodded. Yes, he wanted to say. It was indeed time. “You want to say goodbye?” croaked Michael, face contorting in pain as Midnight’s Poison roared up the veins in his arm._

_Will and Apollo nodded, throwing their arms around Michael in tandem. Both of them pressed kisses to Michael’s lips. There were no words to describe the sorrow and loss that they were all feeling, but thankfully, the wolf-clans were gifted with the ability to mentally communicate with emotions, scents, and sensations._

_Will and Apollo nuzzled Michael. He nuzzled them back, but when once again, Midnight’s Poison reared its ugly head like the unnatural beast that it was, Michael fell backward, unconscious and unmoving._

_Apollo’s eyes widened in surprise. He jumped up from where he’d sat on the edge of the cot and charged to the far side of the Outer Circle. He grabbed a stick of arcane incense and ignited it with a breath._

_The pungent aroma of the incense spurred Will, who had been petrified by Michael’s fainting, into action. He jumped from where he had been attending to Michael and took his position just within the Inner Circle, well within the Outer Circle._

_Apollo tucked the stick of arcane incense into the belt of his chiton. With one hand, he channelled magic into the Dust that lay at his feet. He drew a deep breath and began to chant as the Outer Circle blazed with power. The air above the Dust that formed the circle created a shimmering barrier of sorts that reached for the ceiling of the room._

_Apollo looked at Will and nodded. It was time to begin the Working. He traced the fingers of one hand along the wall of shimmering air as he grabbed fistfuls of smoke from the incense with the other. He tossed the fistful of smoke at the barrier, where it hissed and sparked and crackled, but was unable to enter._

_As he chanted, Apollo walked around the Outer Circle, tossing handfuls of smoke incense intermittently against the wall until finally, it began to permeate the Inner Circle. Will met Apollo’s eyes with a raised eyebrow. “What do I do now, father?” he said._

_Apollo did not stop chanting. Instead, he opened his mind to touch Will’s. Through the bond, Apollo shared his vast knowledge of Animancy with Will. He could not speak with words because the magic was demanding the use of his voice, but this sharing, he could do._

_Much to his own credit, Will understood everything that Apollo wanted him to do. Walking around the Inner Circle, Will raised his hands and called to himself all the magic that he had been stockpiling in the crystals strewn about the room. Those same crystals, that held the cumulative sunlight of ten years, bleached as Will began to glow more and more radiant with power._

_When Will was done drawing the considerable amount of magical energy in the crystals to himself, he was shining with such intense light that the marble floor where he walked was singed in the shape of his footprints._

_Will breached the Inner Circle and placed his hands against Michael’s shoulders, ignoring the sizzling, popping, and acrid smell of burning flesh. Michael’s physical body was no longer relevant to the process._

_Will pulled with all his might. His fingers dug deeper than flesh and bone, wrapping around the very thing that was Michael—Michael’s soul._

_Will dragged Michael’s soul out of the Inner Circle, and though his own light washed out the golden radiance of Michael’s soul, he could see rather clearly the web-like cracks that were spread throughout the soul. Through the cracks, Will could see what seemed to be the night sky—Midnight’s Poison._

_The cracking was at its worst around Michael’s legs, though thankfully, Will noted, Michael’s head and torso were relatively untouched save for a spot deep within Michael’s chest where there seemed to be an empty hole filled with starlight._

_Will released Michael’s soul, surprised to find that it remained hovering in front of him in the same place and position it had been when he’d held it._

_Will clapped his hands together and from the light that bathed his body, he crafted a greatsword that shimmered and gleamed and crackled with arcane energies. Will squeezed his eyes shut, filled with revulsion for what he was about to do. He raised the greatsword above his head and brought it down, cleaving through both arm and leg on Michael’s right side._

_Will almost lost his composure when he cracked open an eye and saw the severed limbs dissolve into starry nothingness. There was a tremble in his arms as he raised the greatsword over his head once again and brought it down to sever Michael’s left arm and leg._

_Choking back a sob, Will willed the greatsword to shrink into a knife. He was no butcher. He was an artisan. He would save as much of Michael as he could. With the smaller implement, far more precise than the sword he’d used earlier, Will painstakingly removed all the traces of Midnight’s Poison that he could get to._

_When he was done, Will saw only one last place that Midnight’s Poison seemed to yet remain—the hole filled with starlight in Michael’s chest. He looked at his father in askance, desperate for guidance._

_Apollo paused momentarily in his chanting. When he resumed, the knowledge flooded Will. The hole in Michael’s chest could not simply be removed. That place was Michael’s Anchor, the part of Michael’s soul that allowed it to be attached to a mortal body in the first place._

_Apollo admitted, through the mental link, that he had not thought Midnight’s Poison would act so quickly and viciously. He admitted that perhaps it was too late to save Michael._

_Will squeezed his eyes shut and sent feelings of anger at his father. They had gone much too far now. He demanded to know if there was a way, and as soon as Apollo suggested a solution, without so much as waiting to discover the possible consequences, he decided that he would attempt to do what Apollo proposed._

_Will looked upon what remained of Michael’s once-handsome and once-beautiful soul, marred and mutilated by Midnight’s Poison. He breathed deeply, gathering the courage that he needed to do what was necessary. He reached out with a finger and tapped Michael’s soul’s chest._

_The golden silhouette that hung in the air rang like a struck bell, only to fall apart entirely moments after. Millions of shards flew away into a loose, spherical cloud, somewhat taller than Will was. Will thought he was going to be sick. Hadn’t he done enough to desecrate Michael’s soul yet?_

_Will clapped his hands together as Apollo’s knowledge instructed him to. He almost yelped in surprise when the tiny pieces of Michael’s soul coalesced into a small sphere no bigger than his head, the last remaining significant piece of Midnight’s Poison at its heart._

_Will reached out with his fingers, protected by a glove of golden light, and pried the Midnight’s Poison from the sphere of what remained of Michael’s soul. Just before the sphere looked like it was going to implode, Will extracted a fragment of his own soul large enough to take the place of the Midnight’s Poison and inserted it into the sphere._

_For a tense, terrifying moment, the surface of the sphere continued to crack and buckle. Will held his breath until with a flash of golden light, it stabilized into an orb not much larger than his fist. He looked at his father. They were both visibly relieved._

_Will flung the piece of Midnight’s Poison in his fingers at the wall of the Outer Circle and watched as it shattered into stardust that vanished into nothing as it rained upon the marble floor._

_When Apollo was certain that all of the Midnight’s Poison had gone, and when he was sure that the Outer Circle would no longer unravel when he abandoned the chant, he stopped and turned to his son. Now that there was no magic requiring his voice, he could speak. “The purification is complete,” he said; “Now it is time for the transference.”_

_Will wrapped his fingers around the orb that was floating in midair before him. He made sure he was as careful as he could be. He did not want to accidentally ruin everything now. He jumped across the border of the Inner Circle and slammed the sphere into the sculpture’s chest._

_Will staggered back in surprise as all of the golden light that had wreathed him, all the power he had drawn from the crystals, flowed down his arm and surged into the marble of his sculpture. Golden veins spiderwebbed across the sculpture’s skin, and where the light that followed touched, marble turned to living flesh._

_Will could do naught but watch as life was bestowed upon his greatest and most precious creation. The eyes of his magnum opus, so beautiful and life-like as stone, took on an altogether otherworldly beauty as life came into them. Will found himself already lost in the depths of their dark colour._

_Apollo stepped into the Inner Circle and dispelled the rest of the Working. The magic was done, and the statue had come to life. He trembled with sorrow at the heartbreak he was about to impart on his son, but it was necessary. He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You have done well,” said Apollo, with a sad smile. “But now your grand creation must leave this place.”_

_Will’s sorrow at losing Michael and his delight at seeing his sculpture come to life ground to a halt. He looked up at his father, both betrayed and hurt. “Why, father?” he whispered, daring to sound like the lost little pup he felt like at the moment._

_“This creature whose life we have wrought is a blank slate. It has no experiences. No memories. It may have the semblance of life, but it is not yet truly_ alive _. For all it seems to be a man—and a gorgeous one at that—it might as well be a child unborn like your brothers and sisters that hang about my neck,” said Apollo._

_“Need I mention, as well, that the creature’s soul is made of the shattered remains of Michael’s and a fragment of yours? Such damage can only be amended by memories, experiences, emotions. Only these can truly nurture and nourish a soul,” said Apollo in a voice as kind as he could manage._

_Will shook his head in denial. He did not want to be separated from the man that stood now where his sculpture had been, but he could not deny the truth of his father’s words. “I shall take him to Hebe and implore her to make him into a child that will grow into the man that you see upon that pedestal,” said Apollo._

_“Then,” said Apollo, “I shall go to our brother wolf-clan and ask Hades to give him a life. A true life. One filled with memories and experiences that shall make the soul within him whole again.” Apollo rubbed Will’s back in an attempt to soothe the pain that he was sure his son was experiencing. “This is for the best,_ a leanbh _.”_

_Will begrudgingly nodded his head. He still did not like the idea, but he could see why it was that the man that stood upon the pedestal could not come into the world under Will’s wing. There would simply be too great an imbalance of power in their relationship. They would be creator and created, not equals as all wolf-fae should be.”_

_“If you should like,” said Apollo, “upon my return, I can put you into deep sleep so that you shall not age but a year for every century until he catches up to you so that when you meet again, you can be equals as you should be.”_

_Will nodded. It was for the best. He did not think he could endure the centuries of waiting for the man, that had been his greatest creation and deepest love for a decade, to return to him. Regardless, as Apollo left the room with the sculpture-turned-man, Will fell to his knees and wept openly, the sobs wracking his body._

_When the last of the lingering light of his father faded away, Will found himself alone on the floor of his workshop, with naught but the pedestal that once housed his greatest accomplishment, the body of his dead half-brother, and the emptied magical crystals that no longer glowed with their soaked-up radiance for company._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles madly* I AM BACK AT WORK. *BARES ANGSTMONSTER FANGS*
> 
> *in Galadriel voice* ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND DESPAIIIIR.
> 
> *coughs* AAAANYWAY. This chapter was a long time coming, I suppose. I'd like to know what you think! Do you have any idea what's going on yet? Are you intrigued? Leave me a comment saying what you think and I will love you, but not despair! :D.
> 
> Also, if you happen to like the story thus far, don't hesitate to leave a kudos. It's only going to get better and warmer—if you know what I mean—as we move forward. :D.


	3. Restored

The Lone Wolf felt the first light of dawn alight upon his back. He stirred from where he had lain the entire night, curled up into himself. His ears perked up. He hadn’t even noticed that there were people around him now.

The Lone Wolf raised his head and blearily cracked open an eye, unable to help but smile at the sight of the pups playing all around him. Some of them looked at him with wary curiosity. Their mothers and fathers seemed to be nearby, talking amongst themselves while keeping a close eye on their children.

The Lone Wolf felt a tiny hand tugging at the hem of his cloak. He rolled over onto his back and faced the little boy that had taken an interest on the deerskin that hung about his shoulders. The pup fell back, giggling, when the Lone Wolf playfully bared his teeth.

No one seemed to mind that the Lone Wolf had been sleeping in the middle of the courtyard. No one seemed to care that he was not of the same wolf-clan, even. If anything, it was the children that looked at him strangely, though he could tell that their glances were more of curiosity than suspicion.

The Lone Wolf batted a hand at the children that shifted into actual wolf pups and jumped on him. He laughed, the sound as lilting and melodious as the laugh of his adoptive mother. The pups seemed to attack him as though he was prey. The tiny canines bit at his flesh but without enough force to make him bleed.

The Lone Wolf staggered to his feet, trying his best not to hurt any of the pups that fell away from his body. He brushed himself off and tugged on his cloak, which had somehow ended up caught in the teeth of five incredibly persistent pups.

The Lone Wolf nodded to the clutch of parents gathered nearby as he attempted to get the pups off of his cloak, pulling them along, their butts dragging across the floor while their tails wagged enthusiastically.

The parents were smiling as though impressed by the ability of their young to keep the cloak in their mouths. After a couple dozen feet of failing to get the pups off of his cloak, the Lone Wolf bared his teeth and barked at the pups. They promptly ran crying back to their parents.

There was a peal of uproarious laughter from the gathered adults, along with tender admonishments about chewing on strangers’ clothes. The Lone Wolf shook his head disapprovingly, though a smile playing upon his lips betrayed his true feelings on the matter. He could not help but remark to himself that this place certainly was more lively than the Citadel of Dusk.

The Lone Wolf made his way to the gates to the Citadel of Dawn. He was surprised to find no guards nor resistance when he arrived there. In fact, there seemed to be a steady stream of wolf-folk that entered and exited through the main entrance with little regard for security.

The Lone Wolf could not imagine what all the hustle and bustle was about, since he had not seen any external structures on his way down the stairs earlier. Needless to say, it was not truly any of his concern. There were other matters that required his full attention.

The Lone Wolf meandered through the throng of wolf-folk that were moving past him. It was only when he was within the Citadel proper that he began to notice guarded glances in his direction, though once again, they were more looks of curiosity than of hostility. Thankfully, no one bothered him.

The Lone Wolf was halfway down a relatively empty corridor when he realized that he truly hadn’t the faintest idea where he had to go. He looked around, utterly lost, but there was no one that he could ask directions from.

It was only then that the Lone Wolf realized there was something within him that urged him forward. There was something pulling him along, calling him further within the Citadel. Perhaps it was the part of him that had been missing for all these years. Perhaps it was the Golden Wolf that he was supposed to find. Whatever the case, he decided to follow where his feet took him.

The Lone Wolf crossed so many winding corridors around the Citadel that by the time he stopped, he was a little lost, in awe, and feeling more than a little humbled.

The Lone Wolf realized that he had never truly taken the time to explore the nooks and crannies of the Citadel of Dusk. Even so, he was sure that the Citadel of Dusk was nowhere near as massive nor grandiose as the Citadel of Dawn.

The Lone Wolf looked up at the massive stone doors that he had somehow managed to find. Once again, iconography of sun-chasers paraded all the way up its height. He pressed a hand to the smooth stone, only to take a step back when a sudden and inexplicable fear reared up in his stomach.

The Lone Wolf looked at the ground and took a deep breath. He steeled himself for what was to come as he pressed forward. He pushed open the door, walked in, and stopped to listen if the heavy stone of the door would bang behind him when it closed.

The door did not make a single sound. It swung closed silently on well-oiled hinges. The Lone Wolf sniffed the air and realized that there was a scent there that had been subconsciously leading him to this particular room.

The smell of pineapples was thick in the air, and somehow it managed to spark a hunger within the Lone Wolf that he had never felt before. Hunting instincts sparked, the Lone Wolf looked around and drank in his surroundings. He was in the middle of a corridor, one lit only by yellow crystals that surely held their light by magic.

At the end of the hallway, The Lone Wolf could see that there were two other corridors that branched to either side of him. He sniffed first in the direction of one, and then the other. The scent of pineapples as noticeably stronger down one way than the other. He chose to follow his nose, certain that his objective was within his grasp.

The Lone Wolf squinted in the bright light that met his eyes at the end of the hallway. When his vision cleared, he saw what basically amounted to a lecture hall, already filled with students despite the surely-early hour.

There was a musical voice speaking from far below. The Lone Wolf seemed to have emerged at the top row of an amphitheatre. “As you can see,” said the voice from below, “Two hundred years ago, my father and I began to delve deeper into the secrets of Animancy than anyone else had ever dared.”

“It certainly took a great deal of convincing and pandering to receive assent from the Council of Twilight.” The Lone Wolf heard a cough from below. “As you probably all know by now, the Council is filled with elders so far removed from the modern world, they are likely to see a bird and ask whether it is a flying lizard.”

A round of raucous laughter answered the lecturer’s comment. “However,” said the voice, “one of the most important things that my father and I came upon—something suspected for the longest time but not confirmed until we performed our own experiments—is that as a person grows, their soul grows with them.”

There was a cacophony of frantic scribbling as the students began to take notes on the lecture. The Lone Wolf, on the other hand, was content with simply leaning against a nearby wall, listening to the voice drone on about the properties of souls for a good half hour more.

Truly, the subject was fascinating, but the Lone Wolf was entranced by the voice that was speaking. It seemed to speak to some primal part of him, and he had to wonder whether it was his creator delivering the lecture from the stage that was as of yet hidden from his sight.

“…and that is why it is only experiences and memories that can heal a soul when it has been damaged,” said the lecturer in a somber voice. “These things are, to a soul, what food and drink are to us. There is good reason that each and every one of us finds, at some point in our life, that we simply _must_ go out into the wide world beyond these walls to _experience_ it.”

The Lone Wolf’s ears perked up at the mention of memories and experiences. Hades had said something to the same effect once, and hearing it from this lecturer all but confirmed that the person speaking with that musical voice was the man that was his creator.

Done with waiting for the lecture to end, the Lone Wolf walked up to the edge of the top row of the amphitheatre. From that vantage point, he could see clearly all the way down to the stage far below.

Sure enough, standing in front of a blank wall where golden motes of light continuously drew and erased diagrams using coal, was the Golden Wolf that the Lone Wolf had been told to find. There was the Golden Wolf whose bright blue eyes he had been dreaming about, in both flattering and unflattering ways, over the last three weeks.

It took a moment of apprehension for anything to happen, but then the Lone Wolf’s eyes met the Golden Wolf’s eyes. The world around them seemed to come to a halt, dissolving away as though only the other was important. They stood there, each petrified for the moment of absolute silence that enveloped them for what felt like an eternity.

The Golden Wolf blinked once. Then twice. Then thrice. The spell seemed to break. Slowly, the Golden Wolf wrapped up his lecture on the soul and on Animancy, though never once did his eyes leave the Lone Wolf’s own.

The other wolf-folk in the lecture hall seemed to grow less and less interested in the lecture and more and more interested in the strange wolf that had appeared. As time passed, more heads turned to face the Lone Wolf, where he stood at the top of the amphitheatre.

“Class dismissed,” said the Golden Wolf, still unable to break the gaze he had locked with the Lone Wolf.

The Lone Wolf descended the steps slowly and meaningfully. The students who obviously had better things to do parted before him like grass in a field. Each footfall resounded like thunder in his head. He had spent so long trying to prepare himself for this moment, and now that it had come, he could scarcely believe it.

There was a part of the Lone Wolf, the part that had grown up to be a normal wolf, that rebelled against ever meeting this person. That part of him feared that talking to his creator would make the fact that he was created all the more real.

Despite his reservations, the Lone Wolf could only think about how much he wanted to do nothing more than to wrap his arms around the Golden Wolf and thank the Golden Wolf for the chance to actually be a living, breathing creature.

Slowly, inexorably, the Lone Wolf ascended the slightly raised platform that separated him from the stage upon which his creator stood. He walked up to the Golden wolf and stood in front of him. He had always, despite the clarity of his dreams, envisioned his creator to be a wizened old man. He had never thought the striking young man he had seen in his mind’s eye would be the very same one that stood before him.

The Lone Wolf sniffed the air, wanting to make sure that the wolf before him was the one that smelled faintly of pineapples. He was not disappointed. He tilted his head to the side, eyes wide with nervousness. “Creator,” he said, surprised that he managed to keep his voice from shaking too much.

The Golden Wolf shook his head and laughed. His fingers, trembling, rose to touch the Lone Wolf’s chest. He gasped when he touched living flesh and had to hold on to his marble podium to keep his balance.

The Golden Wolf took his other hand and placed it over his own heart. “I’d rather you call me Will,” said the Golden Wolf, smiling in simultaneous adoration and disbelief at the Lone Wolf. “You and I are wolf and wolf. We are not creator and created. We are equal—as we should have been from the beginning,” he said.

The Golden Wolf steeled himself against the podium. He took a brave step forward and though normally, the Lone Wolf would have balked at the intrusion of his personal space—with the exception of children, of course—he did not move an inch.

The Golden Wolf—Will—pressed an ear to the Lone Wolf’s chest and said, with a hint of jest in his voice, “Therefore, my rather crude equal,” when the Lone Wolf did not respond to his introduction. “Since I blessed you with my name,” said Will, with a gentle smile, “custom dictates only that you bless me with your own.”

Will pressed his ear firmly against the musculature of the Lone Wolf’s chest. He could scarcely believe the sound of the heart beating underneath that warm flesh. Though he’d long worked on animancy, it still escaped him how this beautiful man could have once been a statue in his workshop. Needless to say, a smile played upon his lips.

“My fath—” the Lone Wolf paused. “Hades. He named me _Nikodemos_. Victory of the People. Our people, in particular.” The Lone Wolf frowned as a soft, bitter laugh escaped Will’s lips. A small sound of dismay escaped him and he grimaced at his creator.

Will shook his head and traced the side of the Lone Wolf’s face with a single finger. “Hades is as much your father as Apollo is mine,” he said. “And worry not, I do not find it funny that he named you Victory of the People.”

Will sighed and took a deep breath. “I merely found it rather ironic that he named you Victory of the People when the day you were born was the day that our peoples suffered our worst defeat. Perhaps, then, you shall bring us some much-needed victory in the centuries to come, _Nikodemos_ ,” he said.

The Lone Wolf shook his head and bared his teeth at Will. It was more a sign of discomfort than aggression. “I am aware of my heritage,” he said. “This irony you speak of is the reason I detest the name I was given. Call me Nico, if you should wish,” he said, with a gentle smile.

The Lone Wolf found his hand moving of its own accord, his fingers cupping Will’s chin as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I would certainly love to hear the words from your beauteous lips. Ni-co.”

“You speak to me as though I am your lover to be courted,” said Will, looking deep into the dark eyes of the wolf that called himself Nico. “And, Ni-co,” he said, “though it would behoove me to not entertain you until I am sure that this is not simply a remnant of the lover that I showed you while you were yet set in stone, I cannot resist your devilish wiles.”

Nico laughed, and though he was unsure of the words that tumbled haphazardly from his lips, he was unable to stop them. “Then by all means, creator,” he said, “in my arms, crumble.”

\----------

Will could not help but wonder in his heart of hearts if it was a good idea to bring Nico to his workshop. He did so, anyway. Nico’s interest in seeing the place of his birth—where he had been lovingly crafted as Will insisted on calling the whole ordeal in his mind—was simply too great for Will to deny him the chance.

Truth be told, Will had not even _seen_ his workshop in decades—centuries, technically. Apollo had put him in stasis for a hundred and twenty-eight years, releasing him when Nico had reached the age of one-hundred-and-thirty. Even so, it was not until now, two centuries after his release from suspended animation, that he found himself walking down familiar paths to the workshop that had once held his life’s joy—his magnum opus.

Will shook his head and smiled to himself inwardly. Apollo had cracked a jest on more than one occasion about him ending up two years younger than his own creation. Some part of Will was understandably indignant at the fact, but truth be told, the overwhelming majority of him actually _liked_ the circumstances he had found himself in though he still had his reservations.

Will felt a finger prod at his shoulder. It was such a shy gesture, one entirely unexpected, that it utterly startled him from his rumination about what his actual age was relative to Nico. He looked up and found himself looking at the stone doors to his workshop.

Will took a deep breath, and as unprepared as Nico might have been to see the place where he had been conceived and created, Will was certainly more apprehensive. It was the place his half-brother had died, after all. As much as he tried to reassure himself that his brother’s soul was firmly encased in Nico, there was a part of him that was convinced Michael would attack him as an angry wraith.

Will waved his fingers through the air, feeling around for the strands of magic that Apollo had put there on his request. He undid the seal, untying knots of arcane power. Golden light washed over the stone of the door, glowing brighter and brighter until, without warning, it winked out of existence. Will pushed the door open and grimaced at the heavy screeching that followed as he stepped within. He brushed aside a cobweb that swung down from the ceiling.

Nico placed a hand on Will’s shoulder just as Will was about to take a step forward. “Allow me to clear the way,” said Nico, “just tell me where I need to go.” There was something so primally protective in the way that the Lone Wolf looked at Will that in that moment, Will felt warmth pool in his stomach. He could not help but blush as he nodded in reluctant assent.

Nico squeezed Will’s shoulder as he moved forward. He had some magic of his own, though understandably not nearly as powerful as Will’s. He could summon a miniature gust of wind to sweep aside dust and grime that had accumulated over the last two hundred years, but that was about the extent of his powers.

Even so, each time that Nico swept dust aside, billowing clouds of it, that had remained undisturbed for literally hundreds of years rose from the floor. Will could not help but sneeze as he followed close behind Nico, the dust more than clogging up his nostrils as he tried in vain to get a breath of clean air.

Will sneezed again. And again. Then, two times in rapid succession. It was not until then that he felt an arm swing around his shoulder, and saw a hand offering him a corner of a deerskin cloak to cover his nose with.

Will looked at Nico with gratitude and received something better than a thank you in return, in his opinion at least: an adorable blush on Nico’s face that made _him_ blush, too.

Will looked around when Nico stopped and the dust had settled once more—albeit, this time the dust was more scattered around his shoulders than the floor. Nostalgia struck him as though he had walked right into one of the stone walls of the Citadel.

Before Will could ruminate on all the years that he had spent in this workshop not only crafting the statue that would one day become Nico, but all the other things of magic, artistry, or both, a wisp of magical golden light materialized and came sauntering out of a distant corner of the room. It sailed right for Will and swirled around his cheek as though to nuzzle him.

Will looked at Nico, his eyes wide with surprise. He had not expected any of his wisps to still be alive, much less possess the necessary cognition to recognize him and be affectionate. He turned his eyes to the wisp and waved his hand, swirling his fingers around the solitary mote of light until it took the form of a miniature golden wolf.

Will glanced at Nico, who had a look of awe upon his face. “I never learned such magics,” said Nico, surprised at how elegant and beautiful Will’s magic was compared to the rough-and-tumble nature of his own. The miniature wolf padded through the air over to Nico, who was more than happy to scratch under its chin with a single finger.

The miniature wolf’s leg vibrated with satisfaction as Nico continued the scritching. “This little one is adorable,” said Nico before he could stop himself. He looked up at Will, a redness creeping into his cheeks once more.

The miniature wolf straightened and barked at Nico before speeding off into the distance, its little legs pushing it through the air faster and faster forward. Wherever the wolf went in the room, the place was lit by a trail of motes of light that hung about for a few minutes before finally dissipating.

Will looked at Nico. “Truth be told,” he said, admittance clear on his voice, “I never would have imagined that these wisps had any consciousness, much less memory good enough to remember who I am to them after hundreds of years.”

Nico barked a laugh that sent shivers down Will’s spine. There was no other way to describe the sound aside from the words “musical” and “enchanting.” “It seems that you bring life to all that you touch, Will,” said Nico. The Lone Wolf held his creator close and said “Which way do we venture to see the room I’d been born in?”

It took the two wolves a few minutes to navigate through all the dust to the room where Will had practised his artisanry. Contrary to its pristine nature so long ago, the dust was now thick upon the floor and upon the walls. They forged ahead, eventually making their way to the heart of the room where Nico gawked at the pedestal that had once held him.

“I spent ten years making you,” said Will after a while, his words shattering the silence that had settled rather comfortably around the two of them. Nico looked at him and while Will had expected danger, what he saw was curiosity. He continued his story.

“I wanted to get everything right about you,” said Will, honestly. He looked deep into Nico’s eyes in an attempt to appear as sincere as he possibly could though he knew deep down that he did not need to. “Every single part of you I crafted in exquisite detail. Even your cock. I’ll admit, perhaps, that that was the one place I erred since I made it somewhat too big.”

Nico laughed once more, the sound more boisterous and lively now than it had been before. Some primal alpha instincts had been awakened in him by the compliment, and some part of Will’s nature made him shiver with delight at the sound.

“No one has told me it is far too large,” said Nico, with bluster that would be typical to a young alpha and would not have been strange had it not been for the fact that Nico had displayed no pack-forming traits at any point in his life. “And my half-brothers certainly have not said anything about it,” he said, with a toothy grin.

Will felt warmth rise to his face at the same time that a part of him wanted to disappear and another wanted to simply spontaneously combust. “Have you yet bedded another?” he whispered, the question slipping his lips before he could even think if it was an appropriate one to ask.

Much to Will’s surprise, considering the bravado that Nico had displayed while boasting about his size earlier, Nico’s cheeks turned a bright crimson to rival his own. “I must admit,” said Nico, averting his gaze in embarrassment; “I was simply far too busy learning all that I could about the flora and fauna that surrounded the Citadel of Dusk.”

“An alchemist of the Wolf-Clan of Hati?” said Will with great amusement. It was a twist of fate that was certainly not unheard of, but it was, all the same, rather uncommon. Nico’s blush only deepened as he nodded in assent.

Regardless of the rarity of alchemists in the sister wolf-clan of his own, Will could not help but smile. He was certain that Nico’s interest in the more erudite disciplines was the part of his soul in Nico manifesting itself.

The thought gave Will brief pause. He thought about what Nico had said earlier and realized that Nico’s love of biology could not have possibly arisen solely because of the fragment of his soul in Nico. _He_ himself _hated_ botany, having always been far more interested in the workings of magic and crystals and other such inorganic things outside of healing.

There was only one way, Will supposed, that Nico could have developed his love for flora and fauna. Certainly, the predisposition towards the more erudite of disciplines was the fruit of Will’s soul-fragment manifesting itself, but Will was fairly sure that the rest of it—the love of alchemy and wildlife—arose organically from Nico himself.

Whilst Will was trying to make sense of Nico’s predilection for the alchemical studies, Nico watched the miniature wolf-sprite as it bounded across the room.

The sprite stopped in front of Nico and began to run toward the pedestal that was before him. Nico could not help but smile as the sprite landed on the opposite edge of the pedestal, only to lose its footing. It whimpered and whined as it skidded across the surface, stopping mere moments before it spilled over the other edge. Once the sprite had regained its footing, it cocked its head at Nico. It then turned its face to the ceiling and _howled_.

Hearing the miniature wolf-wisp making such a frightful sound startled Will from his musings. Nico held him as he staggered sideways from the force of his surprise. He could not help but lean into the warm touch and sigh.

Will jumped once more when from every nook and cranny of the room, wisps emerged. Every single one of them, he had last seen more than three hundred years ago. They whirled around the room, some of them in the form of amorphous blobs, some as wolves, but many more in a staggering variety of different forms.

An eel sailed past Will’s head as an elk pranced around Nico’s temples. Through the space between the two of them, the parade—or stampede depending on how one looked at it—of wisps charged. Will looked at Nico and laughed, gleeful for the first time in the many years since he had been separated from his love—the statue that had become Nico.

Will could not help but press a kiss to Nico’s cheek in his jubilation. He could almost feel the flesh warm underneath his lips. “They all remember me,” he whispered in disbelief.

Will was grinning from ear to ear at the grand news. “Each and every one of them helped me whilst I was making you,” he said, the grin not faltering even as he spoke. “You owe your life as much to them as you do to Michael, father, and I.”

“Michael?” said Nico, his hand travelling unbidden to his chest. There was a warmth radiating from there at the mere mention of the name. He wondered if some small part of Michael had survived and was reacting nicely to the name. “Is that his name?” said Nico, “The man whom I once was?”

Will blinked away the tears that suddenly appeared in his eyes. “Yes,” he said, though the memory was still as painful today as it had been all those years ago. He had had a hundred and twenty-eight years to relive, in his dreams while in stasis, the day that Michael had died.

Will shook his head, though, as he placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Your soul might once have been made up of parts of his. In truth, there is a fragment of my own within you.” Will tried his best to smile comfortingly at Nico. It was half-hearted at best. “Your soul is now yours, enriched by your experiences and made whole by your memories.”

Will squeezed Nico’s shoulder. “You are now Nico, and have always been. You were not Michael, regardless of the fact that your soul was built from his and bolstered by my own.”

Nico placed his own hand over Will’s. “Thank you,” he said, with genuine gratitude, as he looked into those bright blue eyes that only moments ago had been brimming with tears.

The two young wolf-fae immediately jumped apart as a horde of golden light wisps charged through the space between them for a second time. A cacophonous sound not dissimilar to laughter reverberated around the room as they passed. Will and Nico looked at each other in shock before doubling over in laughter that left them breathless.

In between fits of laughter, Will waved his hand. The sprites all about them whirled into a frenzy of cleaning, entire groups of them throwing dust into the air while others ferried the dust clouds out of the room. It did not take very long until the room was clean, as pristine as the day that Apollo had sealed it away before locking Will in suspended animation.

Now that the dust had been cleared away, one thing and one thing alone commanded all of Nico’s attention. A piece of marble sat on the floor, undisturbed from the moment it had flown off of the sculpture when the alarm bells had rung and the spell of golemancy had been broken all those years ago.

As though in a trance, Nico walked toward that singular chip of marble. He stood in front of it, too afraid to bend down to touch it. “Ever since I could remember, I have felt incomplete,” he said, “Is this the part of me that was left behind?”

Will tore his eyes away from the wisps that had since dispersed through the workshop, clearing away dust and cobwebs as they went. He first looked at Nico then followed Nico’s gaze. He looked upon the floor and gasped.

The memory of the chip’s origins hit Will like a rock to the head. He remembered the misfortune that had befallen his magnum opus mere moments before Michael’s arrival, envenomed with Midnight’s Poison, had distracted his attention.

“Yes,” Will said, shaking his head in disbelief. He could not fathom how he could have forgotten to repair Nico like he should have.

“I always thought that the part of me that was missing was something within,” said Nico. “I had never thought that there was literally a part of me that was missing. That somehow had fallen off.”

Will walked over to where the chip was on the floor. He picked it up and held it in front of Nico’s face, its three edges as sharp as the day it had been cleft from Nico’s chest. “Would you like me to make you whole once again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while to get out. I'll be completely honest, I've been feeling more than a little burned out on everything, so it's taking me much longer to get my stuff out than before.
> 
> However, enough of the depressing stuff. Tell me what you thought of this chapter! Leave a kudos if you like the story thus far, and leave me a comment if you want to make my day just a little bit brighter! :3.


	4. Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the dear Bailci, because she's not been feeling all that great. <3.

“You will have to remove your tunic for this,” said Will, eyes darting all over the room as he surreptitiously followed the movements of the wisps. It was painfully obvious he was trying his best not to look directly at Nico, but the Lone Wolf decided to let it go.

Will wanted to seem as disinterested and detached from the statement as he could, but he feared that the warmth that he was certain stained his cheeks said otherwise. When the wisps swept each other away into an adjacent room, he looked down at his feet. Anything to not have to look into Nico’s eyes.

Despite himself, the more he thought about taking off his tunic for his creator, the more embarrassed Nico got. He made a tiny, adorable squeak, blushing and turning away as Will’s eyes widened and rose to look at him for the first time in a minute.

Will felt the blood in his face grow warmer. “It is purely for health-related reasons,” he said, unable to help but ramble afterward. “Surely, you must know by now that I am one of the best healers in the Citadel of Dawn. It is by my _professional_ opinion that you must remove your tunic so that I may return this part of you to your body so that you may be whole once again.”

Having just delivered a veritable speech in one breath, Will couldn’t help but take a deep gasping breath. He looked at Nico and then quickly looked away, cheeks reddening even further.

Some part of Nico protested silently with indignation at the idea of having to take his tunic off for his creator. However, another part of him found the idea downright… _exciting_. He bit his lower lip and tried his best to will down the erection that was slowly tenting his breeches.

Whatever the case was, Nico was more than ready to be whole once again. For well over three hundred years, he had hoped that the feeling of being incomplete would go away, and yet it never quite did. It was much easier to cope with on some days, but it also tended to be crippling on others.

Two hundred years of searching among the groves of night-blooming trees and flowers of the Citadel of Dusk had yielded nothing. And yet, now, in a strange twist of fate after learning that he had been built instead of born, Nico was on the cusp of being made whole again.

Silence descended upon the room as the few wisps that remained stopped to watch the tension building between the two wolf-fae. It almost seemed as though bolts of energy were leaping from blue eyes to dark ones.

“Alright,” said Nico, his voice low and soft. The red that stained his cheeks crept up the line of his jaw and climbed up to the very tips of his ears. He tilted his head forward as he allowed the deerskin cloak fall from around his shoulders. He picked it up and folded it reverently.

Nico took a deep breath and hooked his fingers underneath the bottom hem of his tunic. He pulled the shirt out of his breeches. Ever so slowly, with mounting self-consciousness, he slid the silken cloth over his torso. An alien insecurity came to him, the thread of thought through his mind unwelcome. What if Will didn’t like the way that he looked?

Nico knew that it was stupid to think that. Will had created him with the perfect wolf firmly fixed in mind, after all. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but think that maybe something had gone wrong and Will wouldn’t find him pleasing in the least.

Will, on the other hand, was far too transfixed on the glorious sight that was slowly revealing itself to notice Nico’s discomfort. It almost seemed to him as though Nico was teasing him. It was not until he looked up and saw Nico’s arms tangled in the silken cloth of the tunic that he realized the Lone Wolf was not actually putting on a display for him. Truth be told, Will was somewhat disappointed. A physique like Nico’s deserved to be shown off, as far as he was concerned.

Will’s eyes roamed across the chiseled chest and well-defined musculature of Nico’s abdomen. He bit his lip. It was the least he could do to not moan out loud with open lust and desire. [1] [2] If looks could get anyone off, Will was certain that he would have made Nico spill his seed by now.

Nico finally managed to get his tunic off of him. He looked at Will and noted with amusement and relief that Will was openly ogling him. He was certainly not about to let such a ripe opportunity pass, the sight awakening more dominant instincts within him that he had not known to exist before.

“I can smell your arousal from here, creator,” said Nico with a self-satisfied smirk. Whatever fears he might have had that Will would find his body unsatisfactory were swept away.

“Truly?” said Will, embarrassed at first until he turned up his nose to sniff the air. He smelled the thick, heady scent of male arousal in the air. He saw the subtle outline in Nico’s breeches that traced out the powerful weapon that lay between Nico’s legs. “My nose has been swimming in the thick scent of yours since the moment that your eyes met mine.”

His young Alpha bluster countered by some of his creator’s own, Nico could not help but blush. The redness on his face only deepened as Will took a step forward, fingers gentle and light upon his chest as they traced the lines of his pectoral muscles and playfully tweaked his left nipple.

Nico could only bite his lip to stifle the moan that threatened to slip his lips when Will’s slender fingers tweaked his other nipple. He looked down and watched as Will’s fingers glided over his chest, coming to a rest just around a triangular scar—one that he had always thought was just a birthmark.

Nico had never thought of the scar as anything more than an oddly-shaped birthmark. Now, he was rather surprised he hadn’t thought of how strange it was to have a birthmark when had never actually been _born_.

Will’s fingers prodded at the skin around the scar, inadvertently sending warmth surging through Nico’s veins. When he poked the triangular mark, a gasp escaped Nico. Nico’s knees buckled, and the Lone Wolf slid to the ground as the most intense wave of euphoria he had ever experienced washed over him.

Will jumped back in surprise as Nico fell, mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure as he slowly sank to the floor. More now than before, Will was certain that the ‘birthmark’ he had just touched was the part of Nico. This was the flesh that had never forgotten it had once been made of living marble. This was the flesh that remembered the way that Will’s hands had once lovingly crafted it.

Will could not imagine why else Nico would crumple from such rapturous delight at such a simple touch.

A part of Will hoped that when he pressed the chip against Nico’s flesh and made the Lone Wolf whole again, the incredible reaction to his touch would not fade. He felt as though it would, though. He could only hope.

Will held the chip up in front of his face and knelt before Nico. He tilted up Nico’s face and pressed the chip of marble to the triangular birthmark. He fell back as the room exploded with golden light. The chip of marble sank into Nico’s skin, becoming affixed by tendrils of pink skin but not becoming flesh itself.

Will traced his fingers over the spot as Nico writhed underneath him. He suspected that the piece of marble had not turned to flesh like the rest of Nico because it had never been ensouled when he and Apollo had performed the astonishing feat of Animancy that had been necessary to bring Nico to life.

Will leaned forward and pressed his lips to the pale triangle embedded in Nico’s chest. He called forth the power of Animancy to his fingertips and drew them up the length of his throat. He captured the tiniest fragment of his own soul in his hands and touched the glowing mote to the marble that readily and almost greedily swallowed it whole.

Moments of nothing but tense silence passed. Will was about to perform more Animancy when, with a flash of golden light, the chip of marble turned the colour of flesh. In the blink of an eye, Nico had become whole again.

Nico’s convulsions from the rapturous pleasures that had held him in their relentless grip came to a grinding halt. Will watched as Nico opened his eyes and gasped when he saw the twinkle of knowledge and recognition that flared behind them.

Will felt emotions foreign to him surge through his mind and his body. They came from a mind other than his own, flooding through a link that he had created between his soul and Nico’s without meaning to. By restoring Nico to wholeness using a fragment of his soul, he had built a bridge between the two of them.

If Will was to be entirely truthful, it was a mistake—one that he was sure he would suffer some other day. And yet, looking into those dark eyes of his most beloved creation, Will could not help but feel that perhaps he would learn to love this mistake that he had made.

Nico closed his eyes and opened again. Brown eyes filled with innocence not too long ago now seemed bright with knowledge and carnal lust aimed only at the creator that had made him whole once again—the same creator that had sucked his straining cock countless times even when he had still been wrought of stone.

“The stone remembers,” said Nico, voice rough, gravelling and grating. It sounded as though his throat had become marble all over again. He leaned forward and pulled Nico from the floor by the shoulders.

Will squeaked in surprise when Nico pinned him against the nearest wall, holding him up just high enough so that his feet would not touch the floor. He felt a warm hand on his hip. “The stone remembers the gentle caresses of your hands.” The hand snaked down to the inside of his thigh, gently massaging the flesh in a maddeningly arousing, torturously slow way.

“The stone remembers the loving looks with which you judged what to do next to make it _perfect_.” Nico, tears both his own and not streamed down the sides of his face. “The stone remembers that you loved it powerfully and loved it dearly even after the tragedy of death and Midnight’s Poison struck.”

Tears welled in Will’s eyes as well. He’d avoided using those two words—Midnight’s Poison—for good reason. Hearing them pulled open old wounds that had yet to heal.

Nevertheless, despite his sorrow, Will could not help the redness that crept into his cheeks from the way that Nico so casually talked about his devotion. Nico pressed his lips into the crook of Will’s neck and palmed the member nestled between Will’s legs. A moan slipped from Will before he could stop it.

Nico moved away enough to let Will slide down to place his feet flat on the cold stone floor. He pressed his hands on Will’s shoulders. He pushed down gently, urging his creator to kneel. “The stone remembers, also, that you created it to be the Alpha to your Omega. To be the Omega to your Alpha. A mate as loving and devoted to you as you are to it.”

Nico shook his head from side to side and bit his lower lip as Will sank to his knees, prostrate before the creature that had once been the statue he had spent a decade of his long immortal life creating.

“The stone remembers the way that you worshipped it so dearly oh so many turnings of the seasons past…” said Nico. The stony nature of his voice began to fade away, the syllables becoming less rough and more natural.

“The stone humbly supplicates, oh creator and dearest friend of its heart, that you perform your worship upon it once more.” Nico looked down into Will’s wide blue eyes. He hooked his fingers through the waist of his breeches and pulled them down, allowing the veritable weapon that dwelt between his legs to spring to life.

“Gods bless and forgive me,” whispered Will. He leaned forward as his eyes followed the heavy swinging of the member before his face—his mouth watering at the sight. He had dreamt of this day for so long, and had hoped that it would one day come to pass.

Will would never have thought that the same day Nico returned to him, he would get the chance to worship at the statue’s feet once again. Will’s reservations fell by the wayside. Centuries of pent-up lust with little relief but at his own hand and with smooth stone implements shaped meticulously like cocks to scratch the itch deep within him were a strong motivator.

Nico growled possessively as he placed the palms of his hands squarely on the sides of Will’s face. “I asked you to worship me as you did many turnings of the seasons ago.” He had heard Will’s whispered supplications. “I did not ask you to worship the gods of our peoples.”

“Will you prove once again your devotion to me, creator?” said Nico, the frown on his face turning into an amused smirk as Will licked his lips and watched the member before him bob up and down.

Will looked up at Nico, sapphire eyes meeting dark ones. He stared into them with a knowing smirk of his own and whispered “It seems to me that Lord Hades has imparted upon you some of his well-renowned fiery temperament.”

“But,” said Will, as Nico bared his teeth in a grin, “as you have asked so prettily, I will oblige your request.” Nico’s grin faltered. He gasped when he felt Will’s mouth envelop his member in its fiery wetness.

The sensation of having Nico’s length in his mouth was something of a drug to Will. He had not had this chance in centuries, and it certainly felt all the more intense because the cock between his lips was a real one. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and a fire of arousal burned rather happily in his loins.

Will made sure to lick the underside of Nico’s cock lovingly. He suckled the head, very much enjoying the sweet nectar that flowed from it. He did all this with gusto, having missed the daily ritual of trying to extract come from the stone cock of his sculpture all those years ago.

The whimpering sounds of pleasure that the Lone Wolf made with every motion of Will’s tongue against his cock certainly made the act all the more enjoyable for Will. Nevertheless, it did not take too long for Nico to recover from the shock of having his cock sucked like this for the first time in his long life.

Nico slammed the palms of his hands on the wall behind Will. The impact sent a tremor down the stone and up Will’ spine. With a twist of his hips, he began to thrust his cock into Will, the pace firm but not brutal. Nevertheless, Nico couldn’t help but grin at the small choking sounds that Will made every now and again.

As the pace picked up, Will found his eyes widening. He was surprised at how easily his throat was adjusting to the rougher and rougher fucking that it was receiving.

Will’s throat began to loosen, and he found that breathing was beginning to come easier. He groaned around the thick length that was violating his throat, and he looked up with indignation at Nico. He still believed himself to be above this almost-bestial rutting.

Needless to say, when Nico slammed his entire cock down Will’s throat, things changed for the better. With Will’s nose buried in the thick curls of Nico’s bush, he got a whiff of pure arousal from Nico’s groin. The smell of Nico, earthy and tangy like soil after a rain, sent a tingling warmth through Will’s entire body.

Will was harder than he had ever been in his entire life. He reached down into his robes, hand fumbling all over himself to find his cock and stroke it in earnest. He was so aroused that beyond doubling his efforts of licking and suckling Nico’s cock, spilling his own seed was the only thing on his mind.

Just as Will’s fingers closed around his shaft, Nico’s eyes, that had thus far been closed because of the pleasure that Will was showing him, snapped open. The growl that came from him was almost menacing. It made Will freeze whatever it was that he was doing.

Another possessive growl ripped itself free of Nico’s throat. The rumbling of this one sent tremors up Will’s body. He stopped everything but his licking of Nico’s cock. “Don’t touch yourself,” said Nico, command in his words, as Will’s lips puckered in a pout around his cock.

As much as Will wanted to tell Nico to sod off, that he could do whatever he wished to with his own body, that he was Nico’s creator and Nico had no place telling him what to do, the gravelly authoritative way with which Nico had spoken compelled him.

Will let his hands fall to either side and looked up at Nico with indignation once again. The Lone Wolf only smirked and bared his teeth in a triumphant grin. Will couldn’t help but note how Nico somehow managed to look both attractive and fierce at the same time.

Though he would never admit it, Will had felt a tingle run up his spine from the downright possessive look that Nico had on his face. He attempted to take matters into his own hands by sucking harder on Nico’s cock, but he didn’t get very far before Nico began to ram the throbbing manhood into his throat with gusto.

Will couldn’t help the squeak of alarm that escaped him because of the almost-brutal throat-fucking he was receiving. He couldn’t help shiver again in pleasure, either, as the scent of Nico’s overpowering arousal washed over him and sank into every limb in his body.

It did not take much longer for Will to feel Nico’s cock swell and pulse in his mouth. His entire body relaxed and he leaned forward to take as much of the cock in his mouth as he could. He buried his nose in the thick, curly hairs of Nico’s bush and drank in the smell of his mate.

Nico removed his hands from the wall and grabbed either side of Will’s face. He _roared_ as his climax came upon him, thick warm come gushing out of his cock and down Will’s throat.

Will, much to his own credit, gladly and greedily guzzled the come. His eyes nearly glazed over with pleasure at the feeling of that warm salty-sweet nectar that was flowing down his throat.

Done with his orgasm, and thankful to the gods that he had not accidentally knotted Will’s mouth, Nico picked his creator up off of the floor and pinned him against the wall once again.

Will’s eyes were glazed over with lust, and to say that Nico was satisfied that he had reduced Will to such a state was an understatement. He was not too bad for a virgin, he supposed.

Grinning, Nico leaned in and planted a kiss upon Will’s lips that simply made the Golden Wolf _melt_ into a puddle in his arms. It certainly didn’t help Will that Nico was chewing ever so gently on his lower lip, sending tingles of pleasure racing through his head and down his spine.

When the two wolf-fae pulled apart, Will looked into Nico’s dark eyes, that were sparkling with mischief, and breathed, “After that, Nico, you must forgive me for being less than confident about your claim that you have never had any experiences before this.”

Will stroked Nico’s chin with a single, trembling finger and said, “You kiss like a god and I could well spend eternity in your arms.”

“I have not lain with another like this before,” said Nico. “I assure you. You are the first. And, perhaps, you shall be the only, as I rather enjoy the idea of having you in my arms for eternity.”

Will shook his head with a chuckle. Somewhere deep inside of him was a tiny voice that rebelled against the thought of being with Nico so fast. He and Nico were not as equal as they could be, after all, and until such time, neither of them could truly know what their relationship was.

Nevertheless, the arousal that was thick in the air pushed away Will’s reservations. He pulled himself forward as he wrapped his arms around Nico’s neck. He looked into those dark eyes once more and said, “Shall we take this to a more comfortable place? A bed, perhaps?”

Much to his own embarrassment, Nico found himself nodding enthusiastically at the thought. Primal instincts he’d never felt before demanded that he simply fuck Will senseless against the wall, but he supposed that it was only common decency to make sure that his partner was as comfortable as possible.

\----------

Nico did not bother with getting entirely dressed. He was going to be naked again before long, anyway. He pulled up his breeches for some sense of decency, and picked up his deerskin cloak. Other than that, though, he did not mind. He left his tunic forgotten on the workshop floor.

Truth be told, Nico did not even have the _chance_ to pull his tunic back on. Will seemed to have recovered from the throat-fucking rather quickly and beyond a little bit of hoarseness on the part of his voice, the Golden Wolf had returned to his vibrant, albeit-slightly-shy self.

As Will ushered him out of the workshop proper, Nico threw a look back at the pedestal where he had been created. It no longer seemed to capture his imagination as much as it had when he had been searching for the Citadel of Dawn.

Nico supposed it was not too surprising. After all, what was a pedestal to having his own creator in his arms? He had been afraid of meeting his creator, but now that he had met Will, he could not be happier.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw a pair of wisps take his discarded tunic. They folded it and placed it upon the pedestal. Their job done, the two wisps, a wolf and a deer, sat side-by-side on the silken cloth and tilted their heads simultaneously at Nico.

Nico couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips at the sight.

Nico turned his head back in the direction that Will was pushing him. He was, in some way, glad that he wasn’t so transfixed on the pedestal and the piece of him that was missing anymore. He supposed it was for the best.

Nico had expected to dwell on the past quite a bit, but with all the memories from the living marble that he had once been, he found himself with few questions about Will’s motives and sincerity. Truth be told, he found himself looking forward rather eagerly to what the future held in store.

Will letting go of his hand snapped Nico out of his rumination. He blinked at the sight of a pair of stone doors that he hadn’t seen earlier on the way into the workshop.

Nico was rather pleasantly surprised to find that the doors opened into a royally furnished bedroom that looked practical all the same. He supposed that a bedroom in the workshop made sense. Though his memories of the years Will spent working on him and his form did not extend beyond the workshop, he remembered that Will often did not put down his tools until very late into the night.

Nico supposed that it only followed that Will would have a nearby place to rest. The existence of the bedroom made sense beyond a reasonable doubt. However, Nico was rather puzzled by the fact that the bedroom looked like a grand and proper one—not one meant as a place to crash at the end of a long day.

Nico turned to Will to ask about the presence of a fully-furnished bedroom at the workshop, but before he could get a chance to speak, a horde of golden light wisps stampeded through the space between them.

The wisps swirled around the room in a frenzy of cleaning, leaving not a single corner untouched. Every single speck of dust was ferried away by the wisps that seemed hell-bent on returning the workshop to the same meticulous level of cleanliness that Will had once enforced upon it.

Nico finally asked his question when the wisps rushed out of the room. “Why is it that you have such marvellous chambers here?” he said, eyeing the amorphous blobs and animal-shaped motes of golden light that flitted past him.

“Judging by the dust and cobwebs that we had to foray through upon entering,” said Nico, as the last of the wisps passed by. “I would venture a guess that you have not been in here for many years. Where have you spent your nights?”

The last remaining sprite, the first one that had manifested earlier, hopped onto Nico’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. “This _was_ once my home,” said Will, a hint of longing and sadness to his voice. “I left when my brother died here, and the statue I had devoted much of my life to was taken from me by the winds of fate.”

“Truth be told,” said Will, taking a step into the room. He traced his hand along the wall as he walked. “I had somewhat given up the hope that I would call this place home once again.”

Will reached out of the room and took Nico’s hands in his own. “But thanks to you,” said Will, looking up into those glittering dark eyes of the Lone Wolf’s. “This place might very well be home to me once again. And, I hope, to you as well.”

Nico petted the wolf on his shoulder, scratched underneath its chin, and tried to send it scurrying away before he turned to Will and smiled. Will gestured toward the door. “I have been staying at one of the rooms in my father’s wing of the Citadel for the last two hundred years. I did not have the heart nor the reason to return here, at least until you returned to me.

“I, too, hope to make this place home to you and I, creator.” Nico didn’t blame Will. If he had gone through the dark times that Will had, he was sure he would have done the same. He had already spent much of his life living in his adoptive father’s wing of the Citadel of Dusk.

When the awkwardness of the silence that came between Will and Nico, Nico walked up to Will, each step radiating an aura of intimidation and pure arousal that made Will harder now than he had ever been before.

Nico pinned Will once again against the nearest wall in the bedroom. He bared his teeth in a display of dominance that the wolf on his shoulder emulated before scampering away to lend the two wolf-fae some much-needed privacy.

“I must admit, creator—” Will glared at Nico. This time, his lust had abated just enough that he could protest the use of the term. “—Will,”said Nico, with a smirk as he corrected what he had just said.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Nico looked into Will’s eyes and said, “I do not know if these emotions I feel in my heart of hearts for you truly are my own for the memories of the stone I once was exist within me but are separate from my own.”

Nico stroked the side of Will’s face and sighed almost-happily when Will leaned into the touch. “I do not know if these are the same emotions I would want to have when I wake at the dawn of a new day. But, do not be afraid. There is one thing that I know without doubt at this moment.”

Nico stroked the side of Will’s face yet again. A smirk returned to his lips as Will shivered with arousal. “My loins are filled with lust for you. My lust is my own, certainly, but it is also accompanied by the lust of the creature of stone you crafted with your two hands all those years ago.”

Nico raked his sharp teeth against the tender flesh of Will’s cheek and growled possessively. “I find you more than pleasing to look at,” said Nico. “Father did not tell me much about you. I was afraid I would find some old, fat, pervert who had created me as nothing more than an object of his lusts.”

“When I first set my sights on you, I thought that you had stolen the breath from my lungs with some dark magic,” said Nico. “Instead of pain, I found a creature whose beauty surpasses, surely, even mine.”

“Setting my eyes upon your grace was the best mistake I have made and the greatest blessing that has ever been ventured upon me.” Nico grabbed the cloth of Will’s robes. With raw strength, Nico tore the cloth from Will’s body.

Will could only squeak at the near-bestial display of dominance.

“Would that I could set my eyes on you for the first time again…” Nico pressed a kiss to Will’s collarbone, suckling just hard enough to pop the blood vessels and leave a bruise. “And again…” Nico pressed another kiss to Will’s neck. “…and again.” Nico bit the tender flesh of Will’s jaw.

“Seeing you,” said Nico, tracing the side of Will’s face with his tongue and once again sending a tremor of pleasure through the son of Apollo. “Seeing you has awakened within me a beast that even I had not known existed. He rears his ugly head now and demands that I couple with you.”

“But I would not dream of impressing upon you the uncaring will of the beast.” Nico pressed a gentle and tender kiss to Will’s cheek. “So I ask you, Will, chaser of the sun and creator to me, would you have me as I desire to have you?”

Will lunged forward as far as he could and buried his teeth in the only part of Nico that he could reach—the shoulder. The air that surrounded his nude body turned warm as he began to shed some of his golden light.

“Yes,” Will gasped as he bit down hard enough to draw blood. “Yes,” he said again, tasting upon his tongue the metallic tang of Nico’s lifeblood. His eyes grew wide with want and need as the taste washed over his tongue and over his entire being.

“Yes, you stone-wrought fiend,” Will hissed. “Ravage me and savage me in whatever way you might wish,” he breathed. He had wanted this for far too long. His reservations lay long-forgotten and broken by the side of the rode. There was only one head doing the thinking for him at the moment—the one between his legs.

“Take me like the beast that you say you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go. A bit of a steamy chapter to this story. :3. It all wraps up in the next chapter, but don't you worry. This will eventually tie in to the universe of _[Shrine to the Fickle Mermaid](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3809401/chapters/8488684)_.
> 
> What do you think of these events? Leave a kudos if you like the story so far! A comment would be most definitely appreciated, too. <3.


	5. Entwined

" _Take me like the beast that you say you are_ "

Nico honestly didn't know _what_ he had expected. He _had_ told Will that there was a beast within him that was rearing its head.

That didn't stop Nico from taking _some_ offense at the term. When he'd told Will that Will awakened a beast within him, he had not counted on Will actually _calling_ him a beast.

Though he somewhat resented the word, Nico didn't think he could blame Will for it. Besides, given the way that he was feeling right now, he wasn't about to deny it.

Nico took a few steps away from Will, and watched as his creator slid to the floor with an absent look of bliss on his face.

Nico smirked and allowed his hands to fall by his sides. His fingers wandered up his thighs to the strings that fastened his breeches. Slowly, almost tormentingly so, Nico undid the ties that kept his breeches just _barely_ clinging to his waist.

Nico had left his tunic back on the main workshop floor, where Will had tried, rather unsuccessfully, to convince him that taking off his shirt was for purely medical reasons. He bared his teeth in a savage, lustful grin, as without the ties, his breeches sank to the floor. He flexed what muscles he had, revealing himself in all of his naked glory.

Nico’s eyes followed Will's as they travelled the length of his body. His creator's eyes only stopped moving to admire his bare chest with open lust, and perhaps, most importantly, _sincere_ desire.

Nico moved, body flush against Will’s. Bare skin to bare skin. The heat between the two of them swelled, but not uncomfortably so. Nico took a step, and Will took one back. The wall was nearby, but they weren't _quite_ up against it.

Nico put his hands against Will's chest, letting them linger for a moment. He revelled in the feeling of his creator's heart beating under the soft skin. From there, he guided his hands down Will's arms to Will's sides, fingers tracing the lean muscles that lined them.

Nico marvelled at the firmness of his creator's body, and the softness of Will's skin. He took the time to appraise Will's nude shape, drinking in his creator with his fingers. He could tell from sight alone that Will was leaner than he, but it was another matter entirely to know the truth of that by touch in such an intimate way.

Nico suspected that Will's physique was the result of a man devoted more to the mental arts, a man that did not spend much time outside of what was necessary. A man that only did a few hours of exercise a day, perhaps.

Nico had to admit, he rather _liked_ his creator this way. He did not know if it was the beast within, but he _loved_ the way that Will was strong, but not too much. That Will was muscled—lean, but not bulky. That Will was at once tender and firm.

"Do you not know the way of the Sword?" Nico said, as he took another step closer to Will. The Golden Wolf squirmed at the proximity, but Nico could feel the proof of Will's delight against his thigh—rigid, hot, and throbbing.

"These muscles," said Nico, voice heady with want. He moved a finger along the ridge between Will's abdominals. He even allowed it to dip lower, grazing the trail of sparse blond hair that led right to his creator's stiff manhood. So _tantalizingly_ close.

"Your flesh is not that of a swordsman," said Nico, his other hand finding its way to Will's rump. He gave it a squeeze and smirked at the way that Will squealed. He pulled the globe aside and teased the most private entrance that hid in the cleft of Will's ass with a single finger. "But that of a scholar that knows only to train every now and again."

Nico leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Will's collar bone. He rained kisses all the way to the base of Will's throat, where he stopped, and looked up. His dark eyes met Will's bright blue ones, and he found himself surprised at the twinge of embarrassment plain on Will's face.

Nico grinned and raised his eyes. He pressed kisses up the side of Will's neck, all the way down the underside of Will's jaw. There, he suckled on the skin until the capillaries broke, and a mark— _his_ mark—blossomed.

Nico ran his tongue over the hickey and smirked at the way that Will shivered at the gesture. "The way of the Sword," said Will, panting from the strain of speaking in such coherent sentences while half-mad with pleasure, "It is as alien to me as the day is to the night." Will [1] [2] let go a shuddering gasp.

Nico had to admit, he was both surprised and rather pleased to find that Will, though struggling, could _still_ speak in coherent sentences. He wasn't so sure that had it been _him_ in the same position, with Will looming over him and showing such dominance, that he would have been able to think of words, much less talk.

Nico traced the side of Will's face with a single finger and smiled at the way that his creator leaned into the touch and shivered. "As a child," said Will, barely managing the words, "A-ah!" Nico had reached down to fondle Will's balls.

"As a child, only the ways of the Staff and Quartersta—ah!—quarterstaff called to me." Will shuddered with pleasure. Nico only pressed up against him harder. "Do not be deceived," said Will, "I could as easily fight your weapons with mine."

Nico leaned forward. "I shall take you at your word," he said, voice heavy and sultry against Will's ear. He could feel Will's breathing hot and heavy against his neck. He pulled away and grinned at his creator, eyes flashing with mischief.

Gently, Nico took one of Will's hands and laid it upon his chest. He could feel Will's fingers caress him, as though it were a primal instinct to do so.

Nico placed the hand that had been on Will's ass over Will's hand on his chest. "I see the way that you look at me with open and wanton desire, creator," he said, with a knowing smirk.

Nico looked expectantly at Will. He was sure that his creator had a clever response to him, but it did not come. There was a hungry look on Will's face—an almost-desperate one. "This is an acceptable arrangement," said Nico, when it looked like a response was not forthcoming. He grinned at the high-pitched groan that escaped Will as he grazed his teeth along the flesh of Will's neck. "I openly admire you, myself."

Nico saw the utter desperation in Will's eyes. He could not fathom what it meant, but it was a niggling worry in the back of his mind. He became still as Will reached out and gripped his shoulder. Will said, as though pained to be speaking, "Do _you_ know the way of the Sword?"

Nico closed his eyes briefly and listened as Will gulped rather audibly. He savoured the feeling of Will's hand on his chest travelling to his arm, light fingers tracing the curves of his musculature.

Nico was certain that Will was trying to figure out the differences between his nature-grown body and the marble one that Will had given him centuries ago. "I know the human body," Will whispered in Nico's ear, "and these come only from training for battle."

Nico rubbed his cheek against Will's. A low growl rumbled from his chest. He felt Will shiver at the sound. "Indeed," Nico whispered lustily in Will's ear, "I know the way of the Sword. Father would not rest until I knew at least one Ways—both for my own protection and the protection of the clan should my hand be needed."

Nico bared his teeth and growled once more. He felt, somehow, both menacing and sensual at the same time. "I was hoping that one such as you would be able to teach me in the way of this _other_ sword," he said, as he ground his hips against Will's.

As soon as Nico felt his cock rub against Will's, his eyes flew open, and he saw Will's neck bared to him in submission. He grinned, though he couldn't exactly tell why it was that Will had done it. He was as new to this whole coupling thing as, it seemed, Will was.

Will whimpered against Nico, unable to do much more than that. It looked, to Nico, as though Will's lust had overwhelmed him and rendered him unable to speak in coherent sentences.

Truth be told, this was just what the beast within Nico wanted. The creature within him was more than happy to take advantage of Will's lust-ridden state. He ground his hips against Will's again, groaning into Will's neck as their members slid against each other, dripping pre-come and making a slippery mess of their groins.

Teeth bared and ready to bite down on Will's neck, Nico saw the golden wolf sprite out of the corner of his eye. It shook its head and charged at him. Golden light splashed against his face and momentary lucidity washed over him. Clarity pierced through the thick haze of lust that had overtaken not only Will, but also himself.

"Is this truly what you want?" said Nico, the speaking the very first question that manifested itself in his mind. He took a deep breath, eyes widening as he became acutely aware of the thick and heady scent of Will's arousal in the air.

The smell was almost overwhelming, and it took all of Nico's willpower not to ravage Will for it. In an instant, he understood. They were both intoxicating to the other. One could have just as easily made them both drunk, and no one would have been able to tell the difference. The hint of pineapple threaded through Will's scent was but brief reprieve, but it helped Nico hold on to sanity.

Nico wracked his mind for answers, and perhaps, a way to ward off the influence of the pheromones in the air. He saw a glint of golden light in the periphery of his vision, saw a golden wolf glimmering in the eye of his mind.

Nico knew what he had to do. His eyes briefly glowed with his latent magical powers and he blew a single breath over Will's face. At first, Will could only shiver and moan in response, mind still addled by the intense attraction he felt for Nico, and the musk of sex in the air.

Nico tried again, eyes widening when he saw Will suck in a deep breath. The haze that had clouded those beautiful blue eyes gave way to clarity. Will blinked up at him, unfocused, unsure, and a little terrified when the golden wolf sprite that had attached itself to him burst out of his forehead.

Nico waited. He struggled himself, sex banging at the makeshift walls he'd built around his mind. He fought valiantly, but he waited. He did _not_ want to do anything to Will that Will did not say yes to.

Nico did not have very long to wait. He felt Will's hands move to his back, fingernails digging into his flesh. He roared in pain as Will clawed at him, deep enough to draw blood. Will hissed out a long and heartfelt " _yes_."

Nico wasn't sure if it was him or the statue that he had been many years ago, but all he knew was that he had wanted this for _far_ too long. He had wanted the wolf-fae that was pressed up against him, whose body was tense with arousal, cock even stiffer with that same lust, for literally centuries.

Nico's greatest fear when he had first set eyes on the man that had created him, was that his creator would find him repugnant. Now that he knew that Will wanted him as much as he did Will, he could not stop the raging beast that roared within him.

Of course, the more rational part of Nico was rightfully concerned about the imbalance of power between the two of them, but in the haze of lust, that rational part of him had been shoved to the edges of his consciousness.

Nico grabbed the underside of Will's knees and lifted the Golden Wolf's legs up. He couldn't quite believe how easy it was to suspend Will between himself and the wall, that most private and intimate of entrances exposed to him, should he choose to breach it.

Nico grinned at the sound of Will's moans as he suckled on the skin of Will's jaw yet again. He himself could not still a groan in his throat when he pressed the blunt end of his cock against Will's hole, his manhood smearing pre-come on that tight pucker. He felt Will almost go limp. The muscles keeping Will closed from him loosened enough that even the slightest movement of his hip allowed the crown of his cock to slip past.

Nico had never quite paid attention to his lessons in wolf-fae reproduction. He had never thought he would find a mate—nor had he been interested in one until now.

Thankfully, there was one thing he remembered: wolf-fae pre-come was quite the lubricant. It also helped relax muscles, which was rather useful when mating pairs were exclusively male.

Nico grinned at the sound of Will gasping as he breached Will's entrance. Even though the feeling of enveloping warmth was only around his cock-head, it was _exquisite_.

\---------

Will's eyes fluttered half-closed from the sheer pleasure of being entered. He had done this before, with stone implements and whatnot. He'd fucked himself on his fingers, as well. He was _confident_ that having the real thing inside him was a different, and altogether _transcendent_ experience.

When he saw Nico's nostrils flare and a possessive growl ripped from Nico's throat, his eyes flew wide open. He groaned with delight as more of Nico's cock pressed insistently into him, hot and throbbing in his most secret channel.

Nico pressed their lips together. Nico caught Will's lip in his teeth and chewed on it ever so gently. Will couldn't help but squeal with delight as Nico pushed away from the wall, removing the one thing that had been keeping Will up in the air.

Will groaned with pleasure as he slid down the entire length of Nico's cock.

Will had had his toys. He had even created one that was a perfect replica of his statue's cock. He had _never_ had the courage to push that one into his entrance, though.

While there was a twinge of regret in Will for not preparing himself for this occasion, there was also something rather _exciting_ about the sensation of Nico's cock within him being a novel experience. He swivelled his hips to drive Nico's cock deeper and _harder_ into his prostate.

Will had _no_ idea that a small bundle of nerves could cause such _exquisite_ pleasure. Of course, he _knew_ about it, but had never thought that it would be _this_ good. His eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. He threw his head back, and groaned, thankful that Nico had moved far enough away from the wall that he didn't accidentally bang the back of his head on the wall.

Will felt Nico's face buried in the exposed crook of his neck. He felt himself rise, eyes fluttering open in surprise. He looked at Nico, confused for the moment, until he felt himself fall—impaled on Nico's cock. He mewled with pleasure. He felt _so_ close.

Will let himself fall back, allowed the Lone Wolf to hold him aloft. Will felt Nico's cock thrust into and out of him. It was _rapturous_. Each thrust only made him tense, moans becoming more wanton and lustful. Whatever momentary clarity the two of them had had earlier was swept away in the flames of raging lust.

With a growl, Nico pulled Will off of his cock. Will whimpered as he was manhandled. Nico carried him with so little effort, it was a _little_ embarrassing. "Gods," Will whispered, as Nico tossed him onto the bed with great ease.

Will felt himself _bounce_ off of the sheets, and without thinking, he arched his back off the bed when he settled down. Instinctively, he spread his legs. He grabbed the undersides of his thighs and pulled them back, exposing himself to the Lone Wolf that was looming, all menacing, intimidating, and arousing, over him.

Will felt _slutty_ beyond belief at the way that he was acting around Nico, but he was far away from caring. It certainly didn't help him that Nico's pheromones were so intoxicating to him that his cock was hard and dripping without so much as being touched _once_.

Will felt Nico pounce on the bed, crawling over him, _leaning_ into him. Nico traced the underside of his cock with a single finger, the touch light, gentle, and teasing.

Will thrust his hips forward, but Nico pulled away. A small tease was all that Nico afforded his poor, neglected cock, and it was _maddening_. He growled in frustration, but Nico pressed a kiss to his shoulder and _immediately_ disarmed him.

Will whimpered as Nico pressed kisses to his shoulders and the exposed skin of his neck. Will felt Nico move between his spread legs, the blunt head of his manhood resting against the twitching pucker of Will's entrance.

Nico ran sharp canid teeth over Will's neck once more. Will shivered at the possessive growl that rumbled through his entire being. Alpha mating instincts were coursing through Will's veins, and though he was not the one doing the topping, he wanted nothing more than for Nico to _take_ him as Mate at that moment.

Will looked up into Nico's dark, lust-addled eyes and whispered, " _Please_." Even the single word was difficult to say. "Please, Nico," he managed, in the brief stillness that overcame the two of them; "Make me yours!"

\---------

Nico jolted back in surprise. Will's declaration was shocking enough that it wrenched him free of his overwhelming desire to breed his creator—to fuck Will into the bed. "Is this truly what you wish?" he said, quietly.

Mating was not a light thing for the fae. It was a life commitment to a creature. Sure, multiple mating bonds could be made, but the first was always the most important. Especially among the Wolf-fae. "Wolf to Wolf, Will," said Nico in a grave voice, "this is not a trivial matter."

Nico shook his head and stroked the side of Will's face with all the tenderness that he could muster in his lightly-calloused fingers. "For you I can hold the beast at bay. I can drive the sun to the ground. I would do anything for the man that breathed life into my limbs and gave me a chance to be who I am."

Nico rubbed his thumb over Will's cheek before pressing his own cheek to the same spot. "I would not ever _dream_ to do to you something that you do not, in your heart of hearts, desire. You must answer me, Will," he said, voice brimming with emotion, "Is this truly what you wish?"

When Nico pulled away, he was surprised to find the tears swimming in Will's bright blue eyes. Whatever lust had been there moments ago seemed to have been swept away by a forlorn longing.

There was such vulnerability to the way that Will looked at Nico that Nico couldn't help but feel protective. He firmly planted his hands to either side of Will's shoulders and nuzzled the crook of Will's neck. "Yes," Will whispered, voice thick with emotion, in the silence that followed.

Nico frowned for a moment. His vision had gone blurry, and he didn't quite know why. It wasn't until he felt the first tears dripping down his face that he understood—he was crying, too. "I have wanted you for longer than even _you_ can remember. For longer than you have been _alive_. I wanted to bring you to life for selfish reasons, and I won't let this be one of them. I can only humbly ask that you make one of my wishes come true… if you think me worthy."

Nico struggled to find his voice. He was so utterly shaken from his lust by the tears that stained his and Will's cheeks. "Why would you want to bind yourself in this manner to me?" he whispered in the quiet, "You look as young as I, not _nearly_ ready to take a mate and be bound for so long as you draw breath. Why now? And why _me_?"

Nico blinked to clear away the tears that were in his eyes. He looked down and watched as Will shook his head. He was surprised to feel Will's legs fall against his sides—Will's fingers climbing his arms to caress his face. "I find that I must now speak the truth to you," said Will, "I have never wanted another. Your entire existence is owed to a dream that I once had that showed to me the man of my deepest desires."

Will's bright blue eyes pierced Nico's dark ones. "No sooner had I begun work on you than I had another dream. In this one, you broke free of stone skin and stone chains to embrace me. I asked our gods what it meant, but they did not answer."

"I was selfish," said Will. He averted his gaze, face reddening in shame. "I made you so that one of my dreams could come true, and that is all that I ask of you."

"I wish, with every fibre of my being, that I be mated to you, Nikodemos, son of Hades. I…" Will paused and pressed a kiss to Nico's cheek. "I do not mind if you wish to remain unmated, _just yet_. I cannot, in good conscience, ask of you to do such a thing."

A low growl ripped its way through Nico's throat. A smile quirked the corners of his lips as Will shivered at the sound. He was trying his best, but his primal instincts were dwelling _just_ underneath the surface now.

Were it not for the deep, meaningful conversation that he was having with Will, Nico was sure that he would have plunged his cock into Will already. "This is fundamentally unfair," said Nico, "I will not remain unmated to you if you mate yourself to me."

"This relationship that we have _is_ fundamentally unfair," said Will, head shaking from side to side. Nico wanted to protest, but Will pressed a finger to his lips. "I have unnatural leverage over you as your creator, and as much as we might deny that it affects our actions, it eventually will. If you mate me, then whatever leverage I have over you as your creator becomes irrelevant."

A growl rumbled from Nico's chest as he felt Will's ass pressing on his cock. He gasped when he felt the head of it pop into Will's warmth. His pupils contracted, his nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth. "Fuck me, you beast," demanded the Golden Wolf; "Mate me!"

Despite the reticence that he had thus far practiced, Nico could no longer hold himself back. When Will exposed his neck submissively to Nico, Nico could almost _smell_ the warm blood pulsing through the artery in Will's neck.

Nico bared his teeth, each of them growing sharper as more feral instincts began to take over him. It would be so easy to just bite down and tear it out, but the very thought was grotesque to Nico.

Nico saw a flash of desire in Will's eyes as he swooped down and sank his teeth into Will's neck. Will cried out with both pain and pleasure even as blood trickled from his wound into Nico's mouth.

Nico savoured the sweet metallic tang of the blood that smeared itself on his tongue. With a savage roar, done without letting go of Will's flesh, Nico rammed his entire cock into Will.

When his whole length was buried inside of his creator, Nico began to roll his hips. He pulled his cock out of Will, and then pushed it back in. He pulled away from Will, until just the head of his cock was in Will, and then rammed it back home.

At first, Nico's rhythm was slow. It didn't stay there very long. The rough pistoning of his hips went faster and faster as time passed. Will's entire body tensed the entire time, back arching off the bed into Nico, toes curling, fingers forming into claws that grabbed at the already-gouged skin of Nico's back.

Wolf-fae mating was savage, and rarely gentle. Nico fucked his cock into and out of Will, suckling on the indelible mark that his teeth were leaving in the soft and succulent flesh of Will's neck.

Nico growled with pleasure as his cock began to swell and pulse. Will threw his head back and roared in pleasure at the sensation. Nico slammed his hips into Will, buried himself all the way down to the root in his lover, and let loose a torrent of come.

Nico's teeth sharpened even more, becoming vicious and wolf-like as they buried themselves deeper into Will's neck. Will could only whimper and whine as Nico felt the knot at the base of his cock begin to expand.

\---------

Will had never felt anything of the like of knotting before. Even his stone implements, as exquisitely crafted as they were, had not had the necessary properties to be this way.

Will roared in pleasure once more as Nico's cock began to swell again. He felt each spurt of come against the walls of his channel, this torrent of come no less thick and voluminous as the first.

Will felt one of Nico's hands lower onto his belly. He looked down, eyes widening with surprise at the small bulge that had formed. Will felt Nico pull away from his neck, teeth filed to sharp points dripping with azure fae blood.

At the sight of his own blood on Nico's fangs, something primal within Will reared its head. He hadn't expected it. He threw his head back and began to howl. He yelled out Nico's name as the come began to shoot out of his cock, spurting from him with so much force that it painted his chest, his face, and even the wall at the head of the bed, white with his come.

Will felt Nico trying to pull out of him, but the knot that was firmly buried inside him had tied them firmly together. Nico tried to pull away a second time, but all he managed to accomplish was pulling Will further down the bed.

The two wolf-fae looked at each other, and then down at the sticky mess that was between the two of them. They grinned, eyes feral and wild. Words were lost to them, still deeply entrenched in their primal instincts.

\---------

Having realized that pulling out was an exercise in futility, Nico instead licked the blood from his teeth. He couldn't help but groan in pleasure at the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He leaned down and nuzzled Will's neck, licking the still-open, still-bleeding wounds on Will's neck clean.

Nico pulled away and watched, his instincts demanding this of him. Will fell silent, eyes drifting shut for the moment. Nico's spit worked its way into the puncture wounds of the mark, and as it did, Nico blinked with surprise as the skin began to knit together.

The scar left behind turned the colour of Nico's pelt in his wolf-form. As Will opened his eyes and blinked at Nico with bliss written on his face, Nico growled "Mine." The Lone Wolf rolled over sideways, pulling his creator along with him.

\---------

Will, on the other hand, buried his face in Nico's chest. He whined happily against it. This wasn't how he had fantasized their first day together would be like, but he would not have had it any other way.

Will was more than satisfied, and he felt more at peace now than he had ever felt in his entire life. The one desire of his heart had been fulfilled by the wolf-fae that he had once wrought so lovingly with his own two hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The last chapter of _His Stonewrought Lover_. How did you like this steamy scene to end it all, and who wants to see Nico and Will join Jason and Percy on their journey south into the _Mare Nostrum?_
> 
> What did you think of this whole story? If you haven't commented yet, now's your chance. I promise it will make my day. <3\. I will love to read your thoughts on this universe. And if you haven't left kudos yet, if you like the story, leave one! I would love to see that, too. <3.
> 
> Anyway, that's it for fae!Nico and fae!Will for now. We'll see them again soon enough. :D.


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